Arsinoë
by Kittycat3
Summary: The story of Arsinoë, wife of Paris and princess of Troy, as she is taken from the temple with Briseis and given to a certain young Greek.
1. Chapter 1

Why had he done it? Had she failed him in some way? Perhaps she had offended him. That was the only explanation for why he had disgraced her.

'She' was Arsinoë, princess of Phocaea, princess of Troy and wife of Paris, and presently she was sitting on the ledge of a fountain in the corner of the Royal family's private garden. Sunset had been hours ago and this was the first time Arsinoë had left her chambers in nearly a week. With the exception of princess Briseis and princess Andromache, she couldn't bear to see any other members of the family, most of all Paris. Pushing her lips together, Arsinoë willed herself not to cry. She had been spending the past week doing nothing but weeping; surely there were no tears left in her.

Sniffing, Arsinoë wiped a lone tear from her face and stood up when she heard someone walking towards her.

"Arsinoë?" The voice that came from behind her was deep and gentle.

"Hector," she gave a sad smile. Her brother-in-law. 'I suppose I shall have to see them again sometime,' she thought to herself. As he closed the gap between them, Arsinoë's lip began to quiver.

"Dear sister," he said as he embraced her. "I am sorry." The crown prince's strong voice rang out clearly through the empty garden and Arsinoë choked back a sob.

"I don't understand," she said into his shoulder. "Was I a bad wife?" Hector broke away and held her at arm's length. "Never," he told her. "You have been nothing but a perfect wife to Paris. The fault lies with my brother, Arsinoë, not you. He has always had...an appitite for women. One of his many flaws." Arsinoë smiled briefly before it fell from her face and tears made their way into her eyes.

"But was he so unhappy that he had to marry me? Did I please him so little that he had to steal away another foreign wife? I know Paris has no love for me, but did I not enter his thoughts at all?" All Hector could do was shrug. "And why did he have to announce her in such a fashion? In front of the entire palace? All of Troy? And then to say..." She broke off and covered her mouth with her hand to keep from crying. "To say that I was a cousin?"

Hector's heart ached as he watched his young sister-in-law cry over his womanising brother.

"Will I be sent home?" Arsinoë asked suddenly. "Back to Phocaea?"

"You think we would just put you on a ship and send you home?"

Arsinoë shrugged. "I am no longer Paris' wife, after all."

Hector sighed. He could dissagree and scold his brother until he was blue in the face, but Paris had indeed decided to set Arsinoë aside and put Helen in her place. "You may not be his wife anymore, but you are still my sister and a princess fo Troy. You have a right to..."

"To what?" She interrupted. "To live as a cousin while the Spartan whore takes my place?" Hector's eyes went wide with shock. He had never heard Arsinoë speak in such a manner. With such venom. "Arsinoë," he stammered. "Helen is no whore." At once, the young woman tore herself away from his grip and narrowed her eyes.

"She left her husband and stole mine, what else would you call her?" Hector, who always felt duty bound to defend his brother, stood helplessly in front of the scorned young woman. "She loves him, and he her," he said, although he felt guilty saying it. Arsinoë sneered and Hector thought briefly on how this was a new side of the princess.

"Your father would let Troy go to war for love? She will bring ruin to this country, Hector. Perhaps no one will say it aloud, but it is true and you know it."

Hector sighed and closed his eyes. He couldn't deny it, what Arsinoë said was the truth. By now, Agamemnon's armies were probably already on their way. She took another step back and gave the bitterest of smiles.

"I wonder if that thought occurs to either of them when they bed each other at night." Without letting Hector say another word, the youngest princess spun on her heel and walked back into the palace. Making her way down the long hallways toward her new chambers, Arsinoë passed the doors that led to Paris' rooms.

'They used to be mine, too.'

Stopping for only a moment, she continued down the hall until she heard something coming her way. Footsteps. She knew it couldn't be Hector; the steps were coing from up ahead. Arsinoë turned the corner and came face to face with Helen. A gasp escaped her as she stared up at the blonde woman. The woman who had taken her place.

But Helen did not look at her with triumph, nor with contempt. She had no idea that she had pushed an innocent young woman from her place. Instead, she smiled down at Arsinoë, convinced that she had just run into one of Paris' young cousins.

"Good evening," Helen greeted. "You are Arsinoë, yes?"

The younger woman could only nod. "I haven't seen you since since I arrived at the palace. Have you been well?" Arsinoë had to stifle a smirk. 'As well as one can be when one has been abandoned by their husband.'

"Yes," was all she said.

As Helen stood before Arsinoë, she began to feel a little uncomfortable. "I noticed that you ran from the hall when we entered the palace. Were you not pleased to see the princes' safe return?"

Arsinoë threw a wry grin at Helen. "Yes, I am quite glad to see prince Hector safely back in Troy."

Helen blinked, confused. "Are you not glad to see your cousin Paris?" The former queen of Sparta saw Arsinoë's eyes become slits and and her gaze travelled down to her neck where Helen was fingering her pearl necklace.

"Did he make you that?" She asked. Helen smiled and ran her fingers over the shells lovingly and Arsinoë felt the anger build up inside of her. "Yes, on our last night in Sparta."

The younger woman pushed her lips together in order to keep from saying something that Paris would reprimand her for later. Instead, she gave Helen a curt nod and continued down the hall. Helen stood there for a moment, before turning the corner and entering her new chambers. Her dark haired prince lay on their bed and she took a seat and began to remove her jewelry.

"That cousin of yours is very rude, Paris," she told him. He sat up and looked at his love. "Who? Briseis?"

"No, the young one, Arsinoë. You really should have a word with her."

Back in her chambers, Arsinoë sent her maids away and stood outside on her balcony, looking out at the city of Troy. Within the hour of the princes' return, her belongings had been moved from Paris' rooms and she had been moved into new chambers. Arsinoë had spend every night since gazing out past the stone pillers. She could hear faint sounds from the people down in the city. Scowling, she held a necklace in her hands. A necklace made from sea pearls. A neclace given to her by Paris after riding through the streets of Troy.

The people had cheered; the men had sworn loyalty and love to their new princess, the women had thrown flower petals from the rooftops.

"How fickle they are," she whispered to no one. Looking down at the trinket in her hand, Arsinoë remembered her first night in Troy. After riding up to the steps of the palace, she had met the royal family for the first time. King Priam she met first and he greeted her with the formality of a king, and the warmth of a father-in-law. As next in line for the throne, Hector came next along with his own wife, Andromache. They greeted her with kindness, Andromache especially, for she also knew with it was like to meet the great family all by herself. When she was brought before Paris, Arsinoë found herself to be taken with him at once. He was quite handsome, with his dark curls and warm brown eyes. That night they slept apart, but after the grand wedding ceremony, they had spent their first night together as husband and wife. He had taken her quite suddenly, and Arsinoë had cried out in pain, but it hadn't seemed to bother him. He had grunted as his release came, and then he had rolled off and fell asleep. The wedding celebrations lasted seven days, and each night Arsinoë had to endure Paris and his rather rough wooing. But after the celebrations were over, so were his nightly efforts. They still shared the same chambers, but it was like living with a stranger. She was always asleep when Paris came to bed, and he was always gone when she awoke. It quickly occured to Arsinoë that Paris never wanted a wife, and she was forced to watch as her husband flirted with the servant girls.

Shaking the thoughts from her head, Arsinoë stood and walked towards the stone ledge. Bracing herself with her left hand, she threw the necklace with all her strength out into the night. Rubbing her hands over her shoulders to keep warm, Arsinoë walked back inside to change into a sleeping gown. "Perhaps I'll go and visit Briseis at the temple tomorrow. We can chat if she has time." Crawling into her bed, Arsinoë fell asleep quickly and awoke with the sun's first light. With a yawn, she sat up and stretched, and then called her maids to help her dress. The gown she chose was a dark red, the colour of wine, and she carefully picked out her jewelry for the day as her maids curled her dark hair. One of the girls brought in a dish of figs with a small loaf of bread for her to break her fast with and she ate quickly then left the room. She quietly made her way down the hall and ran into Andromache as she neared the main doors.

"Good morning, Arsinoë," the older woman greeted. She pulled her sister-in-law into a friendly hug and kissed her on both cheeks.

"And to you, Andromache. How are you this morning?" Andromache gave a strained smile.

"Worried," she answered honestly. "Very worried."

"The Greeks?" Arsinoë guessed.

"Yes. Hector tells me Agamemnon's army should be here any day." She shook her head. "What was he thinking, letting her stay on the ship?"

Arsinoë raised an eyebrow. Hadn't she been asking that same question for a week? Andromache altered her path and turned to walk with Arsinoë. "Have you heard from your father?" She asked. Arsinoë looked away. When Hector and Paris returned from Sparta with Helen, Hector had come to her and asked her to send a message to her father asking for help. A ship had been launched that day, and she had received word just yesterday. "I have," she sighed.

"What did he say?" Andromache asked. "My father, the king, sends as a reply: Phocaea will not send soldiers to aid the family that has insulted his daughter and broken the alliance."

Andromache nodded. "Hector assumed as much." They walked together, both trying to steer the conversation away from the impending war, until Andromache halted when they reached the bottom of the palace stairs. The pair said goodbye and Arsinoë made her way alone to the royal stables, telling the stableboy to ready her horse. When he was done, she took the reins from the boy and allowed him to help her on before kicking the horse into a slow canter towards the temple of Apollo. One of the novice priests took her horse and she wandered inside to find her cousin.

Briseis was happy to see her and the two women had a lovely morning strolling through the temple gardens. They were on their way back to the main atrium when the unthinkable happened.

Troy's great warning bell began to toll, signaling that the Greeks arrived. They ran outside of the temple to see ships on the horizon, and they saw that the first ship had already come ashore. Arsinoë felt terror grip her and she clung to her older cousin. "Briseis, we must flee!" The new priestess shook her head as she watched the Greeks jump out and begin to do battle with the Trojan soldiers stationed all along the beach.

"There is no time!" She pulled Arsinoë back into the temple and they ran into one of the hallways. They watched as the priests began crowding around the statue of Apollo in an attempt to pray. "We have to hide."

Briseis pulled her into a side room which turned out to be the sleeping quarters of some of the priests. Under the current circumstances, neither woman thought anyone would mind. "Under the bed," Briseis ordered. Arsinoë did as she was told and both of them crawled under a bed. She could hear Arsinoë begin to weep with fear.

"Arsinoë," she whispered. "You have to be quiet. If you don't stop crying, they'll hear us!" Her heart was beating rapidly and finally she heard Arsinoë stop crying. The two were as silent as the dead as they listened to the noises flooding the temple. They heard the priests cry out and the Greek soldiers begin to laugh.

"Check the temple," one of them yelled. "You heard Achilles. Anything we find, we keep." They heard men begin their looting of the holy building and the women prayed that the tiny room would be spared the Greeks' greed. Their prayers however, went unanswered as they heard the door being broke down. Arsinoë's heart was in her chest and she was convinced that the soldiers could hear it beating. She covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her breathing and to keep from crying out. The footsteps inside the room were slow and quiet and just as Arsinoë thought the men were going to leave, the blanket the had been hiding her was lifted up and she was face to face with a Greek soldier.

"Well well, what do we have here?" A strangled cry escaped Arsinoë as she was pulled from underneath the bed. He set her on her feet and she tried to push his hands off of her. "Stay away!" She cried out. "Stay away!" She had aimed the words at the Greek but they were meant for Briseis. She hoped that her cousin would take the hint and remain under the bed, but the Gods were not on her side this morning.

"Get away from her," Briseis called out from under the bed. The soldier that was holding onto Arsinoë sent an amused glance to his friend as the other man walked over and dragged a fighting Briseis out and up.

"Two for the price of one, eh?" They laughed as they brought the two women together and Arsinoë began to wimper when the first soldier let her go and unsheathed his sword.

"Are you going to kill us?" She asked. The men looked at each other. "We did come here to kill every Trojan," the second man told them, still holding onto Briseis. The older woman began to struggle but Arsinoë closed her eyes, prepared to die. With her eyes closed, however, she couldn't see the hilt of the sword coming towards her head.

Now unconcious, she would have fallen to the floor had the man not caught her and threw her over his shoulder. The second man seemed to prefer his women more lively for he left Briseis concious and tied her hands behind her back before leading her out of the temple. As she passed the bodies of the now dead priests, she began to weep. "What should we do with them?" The second man asked. The first soldier laughed.

"My wife would have my hide if I kept this one. We'll bring them to Eudorus." Briseis was led around like a horse for quite some time, but they couldn't seem to find the man called Eudorus. "We'll bring them to Achilles' tent," they agreed. "He'll know what to do with them." Briseis' heart froze when she heard that. She didn't know much about the warlord, but she had heard enough about him to be afraid. She wanted to fight the men off and try to get away, but she couldn't just leave Arsinoë with them. So she allowed herself to be brought to the Greek camp and put into a tent.

"Don't try to run away," one of the men warned her as he placed Arsinoë down on the sand. "You're in a camp full of Greeks now, and they won't be as nice as we've been." Then they left, leaving the two alone. She tried to call out to Arsinoë, but saw that she was still unconcious. Until she woke up, there was nothing for Briseis to do except wait.

*******************************

The world was blurry when Arsinoë opened her eyes. Blinking hard, things soon back into focus and she saw that she was inside and she was laying next to Briseis. "Bri...Briseis?" She whispered. Her cousin turned her head and let out a breath of relief.

"Arsinoë! Thank the Gods you're awake." Arsinoë sat up and found that her hands were tied together.

"Where are we?" Briseis allowed the tears to come to her eyes as she told Arsinoë that they were in Achilles' tent.

"Achilles?" Arsinoë had heard of him; who in the world hadn't?

"Oh Gods. What do you think he'll do to us?"

"I don't know. But we have to..." Briseis' sentence was cut off when the leather door flaps were thrown aside and Achilles himself walked in. Arsinoë gasped and huddled as close as she could to Briseis.

"The men found them in the temple," explained a dark haired man. "They thought they could...amuse you." The man turned and left, leaving the three alone in the tent. Briseis stared straight ahead, but Arsinoë snuck looks at him when she dared. She watched as he took off his breastplate and poured a jug of water over his sweaty hair.

"What are your names?" He asked after a moment. Arsinoë stayed silent, preffering Briseis to speak first. But Briseis simply didn't answer him. "Didn't you hear me?"

"You killed Apollo's priests," she accused.

"I've killed men in five countries, but I've never killed a priest."

"Well your men did," she snapped. "The sun god will have his revenge."

The blond warlord looked at Briseis with an eyebrow raised. "What's he waiting for?" "The right time to strike!"

Arsinoë wasn't sure that this was the best way of talking to the man that held their lives in his hands, and she nudged Briseis with her foot. They watched as he washed his face in a basin. "His priests are dead and his alcolyte is a captive. I think your god is afraid of me," he told them.

"Afraid?" Briseis scoffed. "Apollo is master of the sun, he fears nothing."

"Then where is he?" Achilles demanded, his voice gruff.

"You're nothing but killer!" Briseis yelled.

Arsinoë kicked her again with her foot but her cousin didn't notice. "You wouldn't know anything about the gods." Achilles was the one to scoff this time and he threw a handful of water in their direction. "I know more about th gods then your priests, he told her. "I've seen them." Arsinoë tried not to look as he wrapped a piece of cloth around his now naked waist.

"You're royalty, aren't you?" She didn't know if he was talking to both of them; he hadn't paid any attention to her besides asking for her name. She nodded anyways, but Arsinoë doubted he saw. "You've spent years talking down to men." He picked up a lock of Briseis' hair and sniffed it. "You must be royalty. What are your names?"

"Arsinoë," she told him a hushed tone. He nodded at her and looked back to Briseis.

"Even servants of Apollo have names." "Briseis finally gave in and told him her name, and he in turn untied their hands.

"Are you afraid?" Achilles asked them. Arsinoë nodded honestly, but Briseis asked him, "Should we be?"

That seemed to make Achilles think for a moment but before he could answer, the dark haired man came back to his tent. "My Lord," he said. "King Agamemnon requests your presence. The kings are gathering to celebrate the victory." Achilles heard but he did not acknowlege the man right away.

"You fought well today," he praised the man.

"Thank you, my Lord."

"Tell Patroclus to come here." The man left and Achilles turned back to Briseis. "Why did you come here?" She asked. "You didn't come for the Spartan queen."

"Although you can take her back if you want," Arsinoë said without thinking. Achilles threw her half a grin before answering her cousin's question.

"I want what all men want. I just want it more." He looked away just as another mn entered the tent. "You don't need to fear me," he told them. "You two are the only Trojans who can say that."

He stood up and clasped the man, who was really no more than a teenager, on the shoulder. "Patroclus," he said. "I'm proud of you."

The young man scowled. "Why? I didn't do anything."

"Exactly. You followed my orders." Achilles waved his hand in Arsinoë's direction. "Take that one back to your tent. I have no need for two." Patroclus looked shocked while Arsinoë looked at both men with wide, fearful eyes. She felt tears come to her eyes and she and Briseis clung to each other. "No," Arsinoë cried. "Please don't. Please, my Lord." She called him the same as the dark haired man had in hopes that he would change his mind. But he just walked over to her and hauled her up by her arm. He held on tight to Briseis as he shoved Arsinoë towards a still shocked Patroclus.

"Cousin," the young man began. "I...I wouldn't even know what to do with her." From across the tent Achilles laughed. "Then I haven't taught you anything at all, have I?" Patroclus grinned sheepishly, both men oblivious to the two crying women next to them. Arsinoë decided that there was no point in struggling, or even protesting. After all, protesting had never done anything for her in the past. Besides, she was a helpless woman in the middle of a Greek camp. Even if she did escape, there was nowhere that she could run.

"Briseis," she said, now standing beside Patroclus. "Please don't worry. I'll be fine." She sent a weak smile in her cousin and was relieved to see her stop struggling against Achilles' grip. When Achilles waved his cousin away, she sent one last look to Briseis before following Patroclus out of the tent and into his own. His tent was set up behind his cousin's, about seven meters away. Ushering her through the door, he stood akwardly as Arsinoë sat down in the sand, trying desperately to keep from crying. Patroclus ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. He never could stand the sight of a weeping woman. Kneeling down in front of her, he took her hand in his own and gently cleared his throat.

"Please don't cry."

She looked up at him and wiped the unshed tears from her eyes. "I'm trying not to," she told him.

Taking deep breaths, she found herself calming down and was now fully aware that she was in the tent of a Greek, Achilles' own cousin no less!

"What are you going to do with me?" She asked, timidly pulling her hand away from his. Patroclus cleared his throat again and crept back. "I don't have a clue. I've never held a captive before." He took a moment to study the girl in front of him. The only evidence that she had been handled roughly was her disheveled hair and gown, and a small gash over her left eyebrow. Her amber eyes were still wet with tears, although she hadn't started to cry. Standing up, he walked over to his water basin and wet a piece of cloth.

"Here," he said, crouching back down in the sand. "Let me." Arsinoë tried to be as still as she could but she winced as the cloth hit her skin. "Ouch!" She flinched and pulled away from the Greek. "Sorry," he mumbled hastily. He tried again, more gently this time, something that shocked Arsinoë.

Shouldn't he be having his way with her, or something of that sort?

"What's your name?" He asked. She swallowed. "Arsinoë. And...and you?"

"Patroclus," he told her, throwing the soiled cloth back into the basin. For a moment they said nothing, both of them akward. "Are you thirsty?" He asked. "Can I get you anything?" Arsinoë was surprised that the Greek was being so kind to her. So far. "Perhaps some water?" Patroclus nodded and poured her a goblet of water from a jug. He passed it to her and she took a sip. She smiled as the cool water soothed her parched throat.

"Thank you." She drained the goblet and handed it back to Patroclus. "What's going to happen to me?" She asked again.

He shrugged.

"Well you can't leave the camp. I wouldn't even try and leave this tent by yourself. Not without me."

Arsinoë nodded, not wanting to think about what would happen to a captive Trojan princess. 'But,' she thought to herself, 'I suppose I'm no longer a princess.' "Am I to be your slave, then?" She asked, trying not to let him hear the edge in her voice. He had treated her well thus far; it wouldn't do to make a harsh master out of him. "I...I suppose so," he told her with uncertainty. Arsinoë looked up at him and noticed that he wasn't much older than herself; perhaps only three or four years. He didn't seem like a hard hearted man. Instead, he seemed like a boy eager to prove himself to Achilles. "Will I be allowed to see Briseis?"

"Is that her name? Well, that will be up to Achilles. Perhaps if I catch him in a generous mood, I can ask him."

Arsinoë smiled. "Thank you."

He walked over to a table in the corner of his tent and picked up a small bowl of dates. "Here." He took a handful and passed the bowl to Arsinoë. Taking it, she picked up a date and rolled it between her fingers. It felt sticky. "How old are you?" She asked, her curiosity coming forth. Patroclus didn't seem to mind. "I'm eighteen." She nodded. "And you?" "I'm sixteen," Arsinoë told him.

"You did not fight today?" She asked him, taking a small bite of the fruit. He narrowed his eyes at her question. "No!" He spat. "I was made to stay and guard the ship! To stay behind like a woman! Achilles taught me everything he knows about fighting, how could he leave me on the beach to wait?" Arsinoë didn't know whether he was asking her or just ranting to himself.

"Perhaps he was just worried?" She questioned quietly. He frowned. "That's what he told me just before we reached the beach. But I didn't come all the way from Greece to guard a ship. I came to kill Trojans!"

Patroclus, for a moment, seemed to forget that she was in the room. But he looked at her raised eyebrow and shrugged. "Sorry." To his surprise, his little captive glared at him. "Don't be," she spat. "I'm not a Trojan by birth. I'm not even one by marriage anymore." Patroclus sat down on his bed.

"You're married?" Something akin to dissapointment flooded throught him, but he did not know why.

"Not anymore. He set me aside for another woman. If it hadn't been for his older brother, I think he would have put me on a ship and sent me home."

"And where would your home be, if not in Troy?"

"Phocaea," she told him. "It is south of Troy, along the coast. My father sent me here nearly a year ago to marry..." She trailed off, realizing the potential danger in telling him who's wife she had been.

"To marry who?"

She didn't answer at first, she just looked away. "Tell me," he ordered. She pushed her lips together and spat out, "Paris." When Patroclus heard this his blue eyes went wide with disbelief.

"Paris? You married Paris?" She nodded, a blush rising on her olive skin. "Oh," he said, realizing that he held the wife of the man who had stolen the Spartan queen. She watched him and saw that an idea had formed in his mind. She gave a bitter smile.

"It won't work," she told him.

Patroclus looked down at her. "What won't?"

"You're thinking of ransoming me off for Helen, perhaps?" He blushed slightly and Arsinoë knew that she was right. "Paris will not care that I've been taken. If anything, he'll thank the gods for it. He'll think he's a widower and be that much closer to making Helen his new wife." Behind the bitterness in her voice, Patroclus could hear the hurt that lay there.

"Did he really not care for you?" He asked, unsure as to why he wanted to know.

Arsinoë bit her lip. "No. He never did. He was only doing his duty as a son by marrying me. He loved women. But more than that, he loved the chase. He didn't want a wife that would always be waiting for him. Paris paid no more attention to me than the eagle would pay to the sparrow."

"Did you love him?" His question shocked her for a moment. Love had very little to do in many royal marriages.

"I thought perhaps I could," she told him honestly, not understanding why she was being so open with him. "But no, I didn't. I found out very quickly what he was like. But even so, nobody likes to be replaced." Patroclus really didn't know what to say. He agreed, of course, but he was finding it hard to speak without choosing his words carefully.

"So...you're a princess?"

Arsinoë scoffed. "Not anymore."

He opened his mouth to say something but Eudorus stuck his head inside the tent, making Arsinoë jump. "Excume me, Patroclus, but Achilles has sent me to come fetch you." Patrocalus nodded and stood up from his bed, and followed Eudorus out onto the beach.

That left Arsinoë alone in the tent. She hadn't moved from her kneeling position since entering the small room, but now she stood up and stretched her legs. She was caeful not to go to close to the tent door, lest a Greek soldier saw her and wanted her for his own. She stood over Patroclus' water basin and looked at her reflection. She was no great beauty, not like the _famous_ Helen, but she was by no means unfortunate. Supposing one of the soldiers, far from his wife, wanted her, she would do. "But I don't think men would dare take anything from Achilles' own cousin," she reasoned. That thought was a small comfort to her as she ate another date.

With the tent flaps closed it cast the tent into darkness, with only the a small amount of sunlight. With the illusion of twilight in the tent, mixed with the distress of the day, Arsinoë began to feel drowsy. Sitting back down on the sand, she leanded against the bed. She couldn't decide if Patroclus would be angry or not if he returned and found her sleeping, but in the end her fatigue caught up with her and Arsinoë's eyes closed as she began to fall asleep.

When she awoke, it was a long process. She was awake before her eyes could open, and she was sure that she had just had the most awful dream. Pulling the blanket tight around her shoulders, Arsinoë brought her hand up to wipe the sleep from her eyes only to feel something grainy on the side of her face. Opening her eyes, Arsinoë saw sand on her fingertips and she lifted her head up.

She saw the tent flaps, and yesterday's memories came flooding back to her. She had fallen asleep on the sand floor and Patroclus must have draped one of his wool blankets over top of her so that she wouldn't get cold during the night.

'Odd.' She thought.

Arsinoë still did not know what to make of this Patroclus. It was strange, but she did not fear him as she knew she should. She doubted very many Greeks would cover their captives with a blanket to keep them from being chilly. Getting up from the sand, she wrapped the blanket around her as she took a small handfull of the dates. Then she paced around the tent not knowing what to do. She was by herself for almost half an hour when Patroclus came storming into the tent.

"Patroclus!" Arsinoë's voice filled the tent but he didn't hear it. Growling anger, he reached out to his water basin and flung it to the ground. "We're not fighting!" He yelled in her direction. Arsinoë watched as the water sunk into the sand.

"What?"

"Achilles is refusing to fight! He's refusing to lead the Myrmidons into battle. All because of his fued with Agamemnon." He grabbed a goblet and was going to fill it with water, but he remembered the basin was empty on the ground and he threw his goblet across the room. It made a loud dinging noise and Arsinoë flinched.

"I told him that soldiers are suppose to obey, and do you know what he did? He just dissmissed me!" Patroclus paced his tent in a rage. "Now instead of fighting, the Myrmidons have to watch the battle from camp." Licking her lips, Arsinoë fingered the edge of the blanket still wrapped around her.

"May I ask why you are so eager to fight?" Patroclus turned on her with such a look that she stepped back, but she did not look away. "Surely you cannot care that much about defending Menelaus' insult."

"It isn't about that. The reason for being here doesn't matter. The Greeks have been ordered to fight, and a soldier's first duty is to obey commands," he told her.

"And you fight for Achilles?"

He nodded. "Well then..." She trailed off, hesitant to speak her opinion so freely. Patroclus waved his hand at her, motioning for her to continue. "Well, you say it's a soldier's duty to obey orders, and Achilles has ordered you not to fight. You may not like it, but there is nothing you can do about it. Especially if you are so keen on following orders. So what's the point in getting so angry?"

She held her breath, knowing he probably wouldn't take too kindly at being told what to do by his captive. For a moment he didn't make any response, but then he mumbled something Arsinoë couldn't hear and left the tent. He returned only minutes later with two loaves of bread and a servant trailing after him with a new water basin. Patroclus seemed to have calmed down and when the servant left he passed one of the loaves to Arsinoë.

"Thank you." They ate in silence, the only sounds were that of chewing. When they had both finished, Patroclus rose and stood at the door looking out. "The army is leaving." She didn't know whether he was talking to her or to himself. "Are you going to watch the battle?" She asked.

He nodded.

"May I come?"

Patroclus turned to look at her, shock written all over his face. "You want to come and watch the battle?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Please?"

"I...I suppose so. But I don't think I need to tell you not to try and escape. If you try and run, you won't get very far."

Arsinoë gulped and nodded, her eyes wide.

When the camp had emptied of men, save for Achilles' Myrmidons, Patroclus led the young princess out of the tent and over to a a large bluff where the Myrmidons were gathered. Eudorus saw Arsinoë at Patroclus' side and gave the younger man a sideways glance.

Patroclus could only shrug.

The group watched as the Greek army moved closer and closer to the Trojans, finally coming to a halt and four chariots continued on alone. From the other side, two men on horseback came forward with four footsoldiers.

"Hector and Paris," she whispered. They watched as the princes got off of their mounts and the Greeks left their chariots and all six men met each other in the middle.

"Are you so eager to watch the Greek army slaughter the Trojans?" Eudorus asked her suddenly, his voice serious. But Arsinoë gave the tiniest of smiles. "Are you so sure they can do it without the Myrmidons?" More than a few men chuckled at this, and Arsinoë turned back to Eudorus. "I suppose it doesn't matter either way. There is only one person on that field I would save, no one else." Patroclus raised an eyebrow and Eudous asked, "And why is that, Trojan?" She just shielded her eyes from the sun and turned back to watch the impending battle. "I have my reasons. The people of Troy have done nothing that would earn them my loyalties."

Eudorus did not press her and instead turned back as well. They saw that the chariots had withdrawn and a single Greek stood alone. A lone Trojan was walking out to meet him.

"What's going on?" She asked Patroclus as the two men drew their swords. "Single combat," he answered. "It looks like Menelaus. But who's he fighting?" "Paris," she told him with certainty. "Who else would it be? They must be fighting over Helen."

'It always comes back to Helen.'

"He'll lose," she said aloud. "Paris will lose."

"How do you know," one of the men asked her.

"Prince Paris is a superb archer, but when he wields a sword? No one could call him a great swordsman."

They watched the fight from the bluff and they saw Menelaus wound Paris on the thigh. Arsinoë watched her husband half run, half crawl back to where Hector stood watching and he threw himself at his brother's feet. "Coward," she sneered. As she watched Hector kill Menelaus, she shook her head. Never before had she seen such weakness. He stole a wife and started a war, but he wasn't even man enough to kill a single jilted man. He had to have his brother do it for him. She turned to Patroclus and saw both he and Eudorus swivel their heads. She looked to where they were looking and saw Achilles standing above them. He didn't look down at them; instead he kept his eyes on the battlefield where Agamemnon gave the signal to attack.

Arsinoë gasped as the two armies clashed against each other. To her, it looked and sounded like the ocean during a storm, when two great waves would slap against each other. Arsinoë had never seen a battle and at this distance all the men melted together into one big mass so she could not tell who was winning. But from above she could hear Achilles muttering commands to Agamemnon's troops as if the men would obey him. The one thing Arsinoë did recognise was when the Greeks turned around and began to retreat. With all her bitterness towards the Trojans, she felt a stab of frustration as the Greeks ran away. The retreating army came closer and closer and Patroclus put his hand on her upper arm.

"Go back to the tent," he told her.

She looked into his blue eyes and was about to protest and ask him to talk to his cousin about Briseis, but his grip tightened.

"Go."

Arsinoë saw the first of the army running into the camp and she understood the danger now. Picking up the folds of her burgundy dress, she ran from the bluff towards the tent, her sandals kicking up sand behind her. Back in the tent, she caught her breath and waited for Patroclus. But after ten minutes passed, he hadn't returned and she began to grow bored. Seeing the various trunks laying laying around the tent, Arsinoë felt the urge to see what was in them.

Biting her thumb, she whispered to herself, "He'll likely be with the army all day."

Walking cautiously towards one of the trunks, she took a glance over her shoulder before openeing the lid.

"Ahh!" She exclaimed in wonder. Reaching her hands into the trunk, she pulled out a lyre.

It was a beautiful instrument she found, made from the wood of a laurel tree. There were carved laurel leaves that were inlaid with gold. Gently she plucked one of the seven strings, smiling as the familiar sound rippled throughout the tent. She ran her fingers over the rest of the strings and soon she found herself playing a song that she had known since childhood.

"Don't touch that!" Snapped a voice from the doorway. She looked up to see Patroclus walking towards her and he snatched the lyre from her hands.

"I'm sorry..." She began, but he cut her off.

"Where did you get this?" He demanded.

"I..." Arsinoë didn't want to admit she had been snooping through his things. "I found it," she finished lamely.

"You are not to touch this again. Ever. Do you understand?" His blue eyes were cold and they glared down at her on the sand. Arsinoë nodded hurriedly and for the first time since she had been given to him, she was afraid of Patroclus.

Putting the lyre back into the trunk, he slammed the lid down and shot out of the tent without saying another word. For the rest of the day he did not return, and all day Arsinoë had sat with tears falling from her eyes. She sat down on a fleece pad in the corner of the tent and saw no reason to move. Her greatest fear as she sat alone in the tent was that she had ruined any kind feelings Patroclus had towards her.

As a captive, that was the worst thing that could happen but it was more than that, she came to realize. She did not want him to be angry with her because she was coming to like him. She was still wary of him, to be sure, but she could sense that he was a good man. Despite his eagerness to kill Trojans, Arsinoë could see in him a kindness that she only hoped she did not just chase away.

She rubbed her face and wiped away the last teardrops just as a young servant boy walked through the door with a tray in his hands.

"For you," he told her.

He put it on a low table and left without another word. An appitizing aroma drifted over to her and she stood up, walking to the table.

Arsinoë gave a small smile when she saw a plate of freshly cooked fish and a dish of olives on the tray, along with a loaf of bread. That was a good sign, wasn't it? It showed that he did not want her to go hungry. Arsinoë fell on the fish, not caring that the meat was still very hot.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun gave way to the stars and only then did he come to her. She had long since finished the fish and was just chewing on the last olive. When he walked through the tent door, she rose to her feet.

"I'm sorry," she told him at once. "I should never have opened the trunk, nor touched the lyre. I didn't mean to offend." But to her surprise, Patroclus shook his head.

"No, I should not have reacted the way I did. It's just, seeing someone touching that lyre hit a nerve. It belonged to my mother, you see. She died two years ago."

"I didn't know," Arsinoë said softly. "You have my sympathies."

He nodded in acknowledgement. "No one has touched it since then. And to come in and see you playing it, well, I didn't like it at first."

"At first?" She echoed.

Patroclus took the lyre out of the trunk and sat down on the bed. "When I calmed down, I remembered something about her. She delighted not only in playing, but in listening as well. She would be happy to hear it being played again." Slowly, he reached out his hand and held out the lyre for Arsinoë to take. Taking it from him, she held it in her lap.

"Will you play it for me?"

Biting her lip, she nodded and moved into the position used for playing. She thought about the song she would play for him, and settled on a ballad of Orpheus and his journey to Hades to rescue his love, Eurydice. As she began to play, Patroclus stretched out on his bed and closed his eyes. Letting the music drift over him, he smiled as he heard Arsinoë hum along with the lyre. When the song came to a finish, Patroclus didn't say anything for he was startled by the sound of applause from the doorway. They both looked up to see Odysseus standing in the doorway clapping.

"Very lovely," he told her.

"Thank you," Arsinoë said.

"I was just walking by when I heard music. I thought that perhaps Euterpe had wandered into our camp." Arsinoë smiled and blushed, for Euterpe was the Muse of music. "Patroclus, perhaps you would be so kind as to let me borrow the young lady's talents for the evening. To play for the men."

He instantly saw a look of worry come across Patroclus' face and he tried to reassure him. "It's just my men, and Achilles'. And I think they would enjoy hearing music such as yours," he turned to Arsinoë with a small smile.

"I don't mind," she whispered to Patroclus. "If it's alright with you, that is." Patroclus stood from the bed and Arsinoë got to her feet. "It's alright," he agreed. "But I'm coming with you."

Odysseus hid a grin. "Of course."

They followed the king of Ithica out of the tent and into the night air. There was a large group of men sitting around a fire, many Arsinoë recognized as Myrmidons. The rest she gathered were from Ithica. "Men," Odysseus called out. The men stopped their chatter and looked at him. "Tonight, this lovely young lady has graciously agreed to play the lyre for you lot of swine."

The men laughed and Odysseus ushered her to an empty spot near the fire. Gulping back her fear, she knelt on the sand and held the lyre. Looking to her right, she saw Patroclus move to stand close to her. That made her feel better, knowing that he was close by. Smiling to herself, she chose to play a lively tune about Pan and his wild romps in the forests. The men madly applauded her when she finished and she grinned despite her nervousness.

"Will you sing the lyrics next time?" Eudorus asked her. Arsinoë shook her head and absentmindedly plucked a string. "No, it would take away from the music, I can assure you."

"No," some of the men argued. "How could that be, when you weave such magic on that lyre?" She laughed at the complement but refused to sing. "I have the singing voice of crow," she told them all. "When my sisters and I would perform for our family, it was Berenice that had talent in singing."

"Sisters?" One of the men cried. "Are they around here too?" Arsinoë giggled but she heard Patrolcus grumble. Shooting him a smile, she picked up the lyre and played them a song from Phocaea. It went along with a court dance, and when she told them that, more than one man got up and tried to dance along with it. Even Patroclus couldn't help but laugh as he watched them, and he took a goblet of wine when it was offered to him. Soon one of the Myrmidons brought out a set of pipes and one more had a flute and Arsinoë put the lyre back in the tent, worried that one of them would take it on a drunken whim. With her hands now free she took wine when someone handed her a glass and took a sip, amazed at how well this group of Greeks was treating a captive. The wine she had been given was not diluted with water, she noticed, as it always had been in both Phocaea and Troy, and by the time she finished her second glass, Arsinoë found herself rather light-headed. She turned to Patroclus, but he was already looking at her. His eyes looked a little glassy, and Arsinoë cocked her head to the side.

"Are you drunk?" She accused. He had already drank so much more than she had. He nodded and grinned, causing Arsinoë to chuckle. He continued to stare at her and she felt her face grow hot under Patroclus' gaze.

"You're staring at me."

"You're pretty," he told her with half a shrug. At once her amber eyes went wide and she stared down at the sand. There was laughter from the men sitting close to them, Odysseus included. "Patroclus," one of the younger men cried. "I had no idea you were such a romantic!" This brought about another wave of laughs and Arsinoë felt her face burn.

"Stop," Eudorus said. He was one of the few men who were sober. "You're embarrassing the poor girl." Arsinoë sent him a look of gratitude and smiled sheepishly. The other mens' laughter and comments were indeed embarrassing.

"I'm fine," she muttered. There was more laughter and boistrous yelling from a camp a little ways away. "Agamemnon's men," one of Odysseus' men noted scornfully. "They'll be happier now that they have the girl."

This peaked Arsinoë's attentions and she looked up. "What did you say?"

"The girl that that pig of a king took from Achilles. He gave her to his men." Arsinoë gasped and turned to Patroclus. "He took her?" She hadn't had any idea. She stood up and the men stared at her. "And you were all just going to sit here and let them defile her?"

Without warning, she took off towards Agamemnon's camp and she heard footsteps behind her. 'Good,' she thought to herself. She could see through the tents that littered Agamemnon's camp, and Arsinoë could see Briseis being passed around by his men. Crying out, she would have ran forward but she felt a hand on her arm, halting her.

"Are you mad?" Odysseus demanded. Behind the king was Patroclus and Eudorus, and she glared at them. But hearing some of the Greeks cry out, they all turned back to see what had happened. Achilles had appeared from nowhere and attacked the men that were holding Briseis and Arsinoë felt her stomach unclench. She watched as Achilles swung Briseis gently into his arms and walked away from Agamemnon's men. He passed the small group on his way back, and Arsinoë was able to stroke her cousin's arm as they went by. For a moment nobody moved, and Arsinoë felt eyes on her back. She turned to see Agamemnon's men leering at her, and she allowed Odysseus to pull her back to their camp.

"Here," the king barked, passing her to Patroclus. "Take her back to your tent. Before Agamemnon's men decide that they want her as recompense."

Patroclus nodded and took ahold of her arm, leading her back inside the tent. "You little fool!" He let go of her arm and she stumbled. "Do you have any idea of the danger you could have put yourself in? Do you know what they would have done to you if you had made it into their camp?"

Arsinoë shook her head.

"And what could you have done anyways?"

"I don't know," she answered. "But I had to do something! No one else was, they were all just sitting around doing nothing."

"You could have gotten yourself killed or worse!"

"I'm just your Trojan captive," Arsinoë snapped. "What do you care if I get taken by another Greek?"

"Because you are mine!" He thundered. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled Arsinoë against him, glaring down at her. "You're mine," Patroclus repeated, quietly fierce. She could only stare back at him, her mouth falling open, before his lips crashed down upon hers. The kiss was intense, and it didn't stop until Arsinoë felt the need to breathe. Breaking apart, she panted slightly and took a step away from him, giving the tiniest shake of her head. When she did that, his hands fell to his sides and he sighed regretfully. Arsinoë could see the hurt in his eyes and she felt a stab of guilt. She didn't like the way she was feeling at the moment. Her emotions felt like they had been thrown around and had landed in a heap on the ground. How could she explain how she felt to him? Looking at Patroclus, Arsinoë felt a jolt go through her. Seeing him stand there in nothing more than a leather kilt and tunic, she came to a conclusion.

For all her life, Arsinoë had been the obedient daughter; the docile little wife. Well, she had been happier in the last two days as a captive with Patroclus, than she had been in the last eleven months in Troy with Paris. Making up her mind, she stepped up to him. Standing before the Greek, she reached up tentatively and put her hand on his chest. With a small gasp, she marveled at the hardness of his muscles as she moved her hand down to his abdomen.

Biting her lip, she found his eyes and saw that they had gone dark with lust. He grabbed her by the shoulders once again and Arsinoë would have sqealed but his lips were quickly on hers, and he cut her off. His lips felt hot on her own. She felt his tounge on her mouth and it sent a rush of warmth down her body. Breaking apart, Arsinoë panted as he pushed her backwards towards the bed. Letting out a little laugh as she lay down, Arsinoë grinned as Patroclus straddled her and kissed her again.

She opened her mouth and his tongue darted in like a snake to meet hers, with both of them fighting for dominence. He broke away from her and ripped off his tunic, and Arsinoë's hands ran down his back, his muscles cool to the touch. He grabbed her gown with both hands and pulled it to her waist and up over her head. Arsinoë lay naked under him and Patroclus' eyes took in the sight of her. He put his hands on either side of her abdomen and he gripped her tight as he bent down to kiss her again. Her hands found their way down to his kilt and she tried to untie it, but her fingers were unable to loosen the knot.

"Here," Patroclus chuckled as he sat back up and untied the knot himself. Arsinoë's eyes widened when she saw Patroclus in his entirety. She let out a quiet moan as he reached up and cupped a bare breast with one of his hands. The other reached for the back of her neck and he pulled her up slightly to kiss her again. Arsinoë bucked her hips upward and a shiver of pleasure ran down her spine as his hand moved away from her breast and down her stomach, coming to a stop at her entrance. Grinning like a fox, Patroclus inserted a finger into her and then another when she moaned and thrust up to meet his hand. She began to pant and her hands were clutching at the blanket on either side of her.

"Oh, please," she wimpered. "Patroclus..." She broke of as she let out another moan and the Greek couldn't take another moment of it. Without warning, he put a hand on her shoulder and entered her, causing Arsinoë to cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. She dug her nails into his back as he began to thrust in and out of her; in and out, and in and out, and Arsinoë closed her eyes in pleasure as he assulted her neck with his mouth. She cried out with disappointment when he withrew from her, but Patroclus just laughed and flipped her roughly around onto her stomach. This was a new position for Arsinoë and she was unsure of what he wanted her to do. But Patroclus just pushed her legs farther apart and entered her from behind. She gasped as he filled her completely, but he didn't stop to let her get adjusted. He just continued to thrust, and Arsinoë clenched her teeth as Patroclus grunted and pulled her up so that she was on her knees and elbows. He ran a hand down her spine and gripped her hips as he continued. Arsinoë cried out with pleasure everytime he came into her and the grip on her hips became tighter as he came closer to climax. He reached around and squeezed a breast as his other hand remained on her hip. He cursed suddenly, and cried out as his release came in full force. He leaned forward and kissed her shoulder, tasting the sweat on her skin. Pulling out of her once he was soft, Arsinoë flipped back over, panting.

Afterwards, they lay together on their backs, allowing the cool ocean breeze to waft over their sweaty bodies.

"I didn't know it could be that way," she whispered. Raising his eyebrows, Patroclus turned onto his side and propped himself up with an elbow. "You weren't a..." "A virgin?" She questioned. "No. I was a wife once, remember? No, I just mean...well, it's never felt so...so good! By the Gods, nothing has ever felt like that before in my life!" Patroclus couldn't help but smile.

"With Paris, it was never very pleasant. It was always quick, and then he would get up and leave. But then again he was just doing his duty, trying to get a child off of me. Thank the Gods that never happened," she said quietly. He reached a hand over and stroked her cheek. "I hope it was pleasant for you this time." Arsinoë nodded and grinned saucily. "Oh, yes, very. You...you felt better."

"Better?" He laughed. "Yes, better. You're bigger than he is, you know." This caught Patroclus by surprise. "I am?" "Yes," Arsinoë answered nonchalantly. "It felt as if you filled me up; he never did."

Patroclus grinned as she praised him. He would have to remember that for the next time the men traded stories. Arsinoë turned away from him and Patroclus put an arm around her stomach and pulled her close. "I want you to sleep here from now on," he told her, meaning in the bed.

"Alright," Arsinoë agreed quickly. She wasn't about to argue. There was a long moment of silence and Arsinoë felt her eyelids grow heavy.

"Well, goodnight," she said to him, closing her eyes. "Goodnight."

When he awoke, his hands reached for her in the bed, but he felt only an empty space. Opening his eyes, Patroclus was surprised to see that she was not in bed beside him. Sitting up, he saw her leaning against the doorway staring out at something. She was already dressed. Patroclus got out of the bed and hastily tied on the kilt he had been wearing the night before. He walked towards her, but Arsinoë didn't seem to hear him approach. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. She smiled when Patroclus kissed her neck but she didn't lean into him.

"What are you looking at?" He asked her, trying to see what held her attentions so. "The ocean," was Arsinoë's response.

"Why?"

"Because it reminds me of home, before I came to Troy. And my sisters." Patroclus didn't understand. "How does the ocean remind you of your family?" She turned to face him and she wore a sad, far away look.

"My sisters and I, nearly everyday, would go down to a little beach just beyond the palace and have a sea bath. It would be just the three of us, and a small group of attendants who swam out before us to discourage sharks from getting too close. The day before I left for Troy, we three spent almost all day in the ocean." She sighed and turned her gaze back to the Aegean. "I miss them." Patroclus released her from his grip and walked over to pour himself a glass of water.

"What were their names?" He asked.

"Berenice and Tryphaena. Tryphaena was the eldest of us sisters, Berenice was the youngest. We also had two brothers. Philadelphus is older than all of us. He would be almost twenty-four by now." She grinned suddenly, though Patroclus didn't see it. "And little Felix. He was the baby. He's..." Arsinoë stopped to think. "Seven." She turned to him once again and he was glad to see her eyes were no longer as sad.

"Do you have any siblings?" Patroclus shook his head and he took a sip of water. "No, I was the only child. My mother was expecting another child, though, when she died." Arsinoë walked from the doorway to the bed and sat down.

"How did she die?" "Fever," Patroclus answered. "She and my father both. I was sent to live with Achilles and his mother."

"And you are close with him?" She asked. Patroclus nodded. "As close as brothers." Arsinoë smiled. They sat in silence for a moment before Arsinoë thought of something. "Patroclus, I was wondering, is there any way I could get something else to wear?" He turned to her and laughed quietly, but nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank-you. You know, I've never worn a gown for longer than a day." "Ever?" "Well, of course I wore it again at another time, but I always had a nice little maid to wash my gowns for me when I was done with them." She half smiled at her own shallowness.

"Have you eaten anything?" Patroclus asked her, changing the subject. She shook her head. "I'm not hungry," she told him. He stood up and nodded.

"I have to go see Eudorus this morning. I'll be back later, alright?" Arsinoë could only nod as he started to walk out of the tent. But after a second thought, he turned and walked back to her and cupped her face with his hands, planting a soft kiss on her mouth before leaving. She sat still before allowing herself a giggle. She felt as if she were a common girl, falling in love with a boy for the very first time. She crawled back under the blanket and was unable to keep a grin off of her face.

*************

"What are you doing?"

Arsinoë whirled around to see Patroclus standing in the doorway. He looked down at her, and then looked around the tent. He had only been gone a couple of hours, and his tent looked like a disaster. Seeing his armor and weapons strewn about, he shot her a look with a raised eyebrow.

She put down the dagger she was holding and grinned sheepishly. "I was feeling useless just sitting her, so I decided to polish your armor. And sharpen your weapons." Closing the tent flaps, he walked inside and laughed at her.

"Do you even know what you're doing?"

"Well, not at first. But I remembered the things my brother used to tell me when he polished his armor, and it worked. See?" She picked up his breastplate and showed it to him, and the metal did indeed look cleaner and more polished.

"It looks better," he told her as he put it back on the stand. "I was going to put it all back when I was finished with the weapons." Turning back to her, Patroclus saw the look she wore on her face; she was proud of her work and she wanted his approval.

"It looks good. Thank you." Her face broke out into a smile, and she picked up the dagger and began to sharpen it again.

"No, put that down."

Arsinoë did as she was told and put the dagger back in its sheath, and Patroclus threw something at her. Catching it, she unwrapped a bundle of cloth. A long tunic of dark blue fabric was in her hands, and she fingered it gently. It was a man's tunic, and she thought that it would never have been a fabric she would have chosen for a gown, but that was before, when she had been a spoiled princess. Now she couldn't have been happier if it had been cloth of gold. Patroclus wached her face as she held the tunic and it made him want to smile. It was the best he could do in a camp full of soldiers, but she was looking at it as if it were a gift from the gods.

"Thank-you so much," she said. He walked over to one of his chests and pulled out one of his tunics. "Here, put this on under your dress." She took it when he gave it to her, giving him the blue tunic. "Why?" She questioned. He shook his head, not telling her anything. "Just do it." Making a noise of frustration, she turned away and unclasped the top half of her dress. Patroclus watched as the burgundy fabric pooled at her waist and her black hair fell down to meet it. He had the urge to run his hands through her hair and he wanted his mouth all over her bronze back.

Blinking, the spell was broken when she put on his tunic and pulled up her dress. She turned around with a questioning look on her face.

"Why am I wearing this?"

He grinned and grabbed her hand. "You'll see. Come on." He pulled her along and Arsinoë had no choice but to follow Patroclus outside.

"Oh!" She exclaimed. Standing outside the tent was a horse. A large black stallion, larger than any of the horses Arsinoë would have ridden. "It's Achilles'," he told her. "I'm borrowing it for the day." He grabbed the horse's reins and hoisted himself up onto the horse's back. "Could you pass me that?" He pointed to a bundle on the ground and Arsinoë lifted it up to him. "Can you get up? Or do you need help?" He asked her. "No, I don't need help," she answered, looking around. "Aha!" She spotted a chair and dragged it over, stepping onto it and jumping sideways onto the horse.

"Where are we going?" She asked him when she was upright on the horse's back. Patroclus kicked the horse into a trot and Arsinoë wrapped her arms tight around his waist.

"You'll see," he repeated. Once they got past the Myrmidon's camp, he clicked his tongue and kicked the horse into a canter and Arsinoë let out a whoop of laughter. She had always loved riding, and riding fast. She felt the wind in her hair as the horse moved from a canter into a gallop and she squeezed his waist even tighter. They rode for what must have been hours to get away from the Greek ships and Patroclus led the horse into a small cove that was isolated by jagged rocks. Patroclus brought the horse to a stop and handed the bundle to Arsinoë before he slid off. Taking it, he placed it on the ground and held out his arms to help Arsinoë off. Grinning as she stood in his arms, she looked around.

"Why are we here?" Patroclus let her go and tied the horse to a stray bush. "Well, you were telling me about how much you loved the ocean this morning, so I decided to plan a little outing." He unwrapped the bundle and pulled out a small carafe of wine, a basket of figs, grapes and dates, a loaf of bread and several strips of dried goat meat.

"That should be fine for awhile," he said, putting all of the food on the now spread out piece of cloth, and he took off his tunic. "Care to join me?" Laughing, Arsinoë realized to point of wearing Patroclus' tunic and she stripped off her burgundy dress, the white garment falling to her knees. Kicking off her sandals, she raced down the beach and dove into the water. She came up from underwater and pushed the hair out of her eyes. She scanned the beach but couldn't see Patroclus, and yelped suddenly when she felt something pinch her leg. Crossing her arms she waited until he joined her above the sea. He laughed as he wiped the water from his eyes.

"That hurt," she cried, pushing him. He fell backwards, back underwater and Arsinoë laughed. Sputtering, he came at her and she shrieked, swimming away. She swam until her feet could not touch the ground, and she floated on her back, sighing with pleasure. "Are you sure that the birds aren't going to get into the food?" She called.

"No, I'm sure it will all be alright," came the reply. She heard splashing coming towards her and opened her eyes. Patroclus was swimming her way and she stopped floating on her back; instead she started to swim on the spot. "I don't know, sea birds are very smart. Smart enough to break into one little basket." He rolled his eyes good naturedly and grabbed her hand under the water. Smirking, she pulled away and dove under the water, her strong swimmer's legs kicking, taking her away from him and further out to sea. Coming up for air, she saw that Patroclus was still in the same spot.

"Come out here," she called to him.

"I..." She heard him hesitate. "You come back here."

"Why?"

He didn't answer, so Arsinoë gave up and swam back to him.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I just didn't feel like swimming all the way out there," he told her. Arsinoë wasn't sure she believed him. "Were you afraid of swimming out to me?" She asked. Patroclus scoffed at her, but she could see a blush rise on his face. "You were!" He turned his head to glare at her but Arsinoë paid no attention.

"Are you saying the great Patroclus, cousin to Achilles himself, is afraid of deep water?" She laughed good naturedly, but he only scowled. "I just don't like the idea of being so far from the shore that you can't get back. If you want to swim right into Poseidon's arms, then so be it. But I'm going to stay where he can't so easily drag me down." Arsinoë relented with her teasing, and they chose instead to swim around closer to shore for a time before getting out off the water. When they walked back to their things, they saw that birds had gotten into the basket and had taken all the meat.

"Those little bastards," he swore. Beside him, Arsinoë failed to stifle a giggle. He turned to her and saw that she wore a smug expression on her face.

"Don't even say it," Patroclus warned.

"I told you," she said sweetly, ignoring his warning. He nudged her with his elbow and and pushed her away with a grin. Laughing, she helped him scare away the remaining birds and they sat down on the square of cloth. Patoclus uncorked the jug of wine and took a gulp. He offered it to Arsinoë and she took it, although she did not drink as deep as he had. She passed it back to him and fell backwards onto the cloth, letting her eyes close as the fierce sun beated down on her.

"Here," Patroclus said, placing the small basket of fruit in between them. With her eyes still closed, Arsinoë felt around and finally grabbed onto it. She took a handful of grapes and popped them in her mouth one by one. He took the loaf of bread and ripped it in two, taking bites from his half in between sips of wine.

"I'm going to end up looking like a peasant girl who toils under the sun all day," Arsinoë said awhile later from her position on the sand. She eventually sat up and took the jug from the ground. Sipping it, she glanced at Patroclus out of the corner of her eye.

"Does it make you upset," she asked, "to have to sit around while all the other Greeks fight?" She watched as he bit a fig in half, the juice running down his chin. She saw the sudden image of herself leaning over and licking the sweet liquid from his skin. Mentally shaking the image out of her head, she took a bite of bread.

"Yes," he answered. "Achilles brought me here to fight, but now he orders me to stay in the camp. I'm forced to stand and watch while other men get the glory."

"Glory?" Arsinoë repeated. "Is it that important to you?"

Patroclus looked over at her. "For a warrior, that's all there is. Achilles told me that. Glory and reputation. Making sure that people will hear your name long after you're dead."

Arsinoë didn't say anything, nor could she. She knew nothing about being a warrior, and she knew no one would remember her name once she was gone.

"Does that mean you're unhappy now?" He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Unhappy here with you?" He grinned. "Never." He swung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her back so they were both laying down. She laughed and rolled onto her side, and reached up and planted a kiss on Patroclus' lips. He smiled softly and ran his hands through her dark hair. The sound of the sea and the feeling of his fingers in her hair nearly put Arsinoë to sleep, but she suddenly she felt his hand on her hip and the now dry tunic was pushed up to her waist.

"Patroclus," she said slowly. She opened her eyes and saw him staring down at her with a wicked grin. "Here?" She questioned. "Now?"

Patroclus rolled Arsinoë on to her back and leaned over her. "Are you so naive to think people only do it at night, in their beds?"

"Well no, but.."

She was cut off by a kiss so full of passion that it was enought to rouse her from her narcosis. She reached up and ran her hands down his back, and he pulled off Arsinoë's tunic and threw it a little ways away. Patroclus moved away from her lips and sucked on the skin where her neck met her shoulders, and he found that she tasted salty from the ocean. He threw Arsinoë a smirk and moved lower, drawing a line with his tongue in between her breasts. Cupping one in his hand, Patroclus moved his free hand down and entered her with two fingers. Gasping, Arsinoë tried to sit up but was pushed back by his strong arm. She hastily untied his kilt and let out a moan as he sent shivers of pleasure up her body with his fingers. Withdrawing his hand, Patroclus positioned himself above her and thrust in, trying to be as gentle as possible. But Arsinoë let out a long, slow moan and Patrocus was unable to hold himself back; without warning, he began to thrust hard and fast. Arsinoë wrapped her legs around his waist and lifted her head up to kiss him, biting his lower lip as she pulled away. Patroclus grunted as she dug her nails into his back and he bit down on her shoulder.

"Oh, Zeus," she moaned. He grabbed a handful of hair from the back of her head and pulled, making Arsinoë arch her back slightly. With her throat exposed, Patroclus licked from her collarbone to her mouth, kissing her deep as he reached his climax. Panting, he fell foward onto her with his eyes closed and didn't move. "Patroclus," Arsinoë said, her voice husky. "I cannot breathe." He laughed, his eyes still closed, and rolled off of her. He pulled her into his arms, both of them covered in a layer of sweat. As they lay together under the now setting sun, Arsinoë felt her heartbeat return to normal and she curled into him. "Patroclus," she whispered. "Shouldn't we be gettng back? The sun is starting to set, and Apollo will take it from the sky altogether soon enough."

Groaning, he untangled himself from her arms and stood up. "I suppose you're right. Come on," he said, pulling her up to her feet. She picked up the discarded tunic and threw it in next to the carafe and the baskets of food. She put on her burgundy dress and sat down to put her sandals on. She watched as Patroclus wrapped up the cloth and folded it back into a bundle like it had been before. He hadn't bothered to get dressed and Arsinoë was able to admire his well-toned backside as he moved around the beach. When he turned back to her, he spotted her staring at him and he laughed. She blushed and ran over to where the horse stood nibbling on a shrub. When he joined her, Patroclus was dressed and had the bundle under his arm. "Get on," he told her, offering his hands to help her up. Arsinoë put her foot into his cupped palms and let herself be pushed up onto the horse's back, taking the bundle from Patroclus. He swung his leg over the horse's hindquarters and sat behind Arsinoë, letting her hold onto the bundle as he reached around her and held onto the reins. As they began their ride back to the camp, Arsinoë couldn't make the smile vanish from her face.

'This has been an utterly perfect day,' she thought to herself. The sun set as they were riding, and the stars came out quickly. By the time they got back to the ships, the fires had already been lit and the men had already broken out the wine. The Myrmidons began cat-calling when they rode into camp, and Patroclus just scowled at them. Arsinoë slid off the horse and walked into the tent, while Patroclus went to return his cousin's horse. Arsinoë didn't wait for him to come back, she just took off her dress and threw it to the ground, crawling into his bed naked. She felt like she had never been so tired in her life, but the day she had had was worth it. She didn't know how long she was in bed by herself, but just as she was drifting off to sleep, she felt Patroclus slid into bed next to her.

"I'm sorry I took so long," he told her. "The men wanted me to drink with them. What's this?" He had just discovered that she wasn't wearing anything. When he put his arms around her, she rolled over and put her hand on his chest.

"I never want to wear that dress again," she told him sleepily. "You can burn it tomorrow." He yawned, slightly drunk from his short time with the Myrmidons. He kissed her forehead and quickly joined Arsinoë under the spell of Hypnos. He awoke the next morning to see Achilles standing over his bed. Sitting up in shock, he was careful not to wake Arsinoë as he shifted his weight and stood up from the bed. He tied on a kilt and followed his cousin outside.

"It seems I have taught you something, after all," Achilles quipped with a bemused expression. "Very funny," Patroclus mumbled. "Are you telling me you aren't enjoying the same thing with your captive?"

"Is she still just your captive?" Achilles shot back. Patroclus didn't answer, instead asking, "Have you changed your mind about the Myrmidons fighting in the war?" Achilles shook his head. "No, cousin. I haven't." Patroclus pushed his lips together in sudden anger. "Why not?" He demanded. "You have your priestess back, so why are you still refusing to fight?"

"You still don't understand, do you?" He asked. He shook his head as if he found the whole thing disappointing. "But that isn't why I came to you. Briseis keeps asking me to let her see your little friend. I've forgotten her name. But bring her to my tent when she wakes up." He didn't say anything further, he just turned around and went back into his own tent. Patroclus stood in the sand for a moment, before letting out an aggravated breath and walking back inside.

Arsinoë was just waking up when he walked through the tent flaps. She reached her arms above her head and stretched, making the blanket slip down slightly. "Good morning," she mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep. Patroclus leaned over her and kissed her.

"Good morning." Arsinoë sat up as he reached over and passed her the blue tunic.

"Here, put this on." She did as she was told and got out of the bed. "Come on," Patroclus grabbed her hand and led her out of the tent.

"Where are we going?"

"Achilles came to talk to me this morning," he told her. "And he told me I could bring you to see her, what's-her-name."

"Briseis?" Arsinoë dropped his hand and stopped walking. "I can see Briseis?" He nodded. "Oh, thank you!" She launched herself into his arms hand hugged him. For a moment he didn't move, but Patroclus recovered and put his arms around her in return. For a moment they just stood in an embrace, until Patroclus cleared his throat and broke away.

"Come on," he said suddenly, pulling her along. He took her to Achilles' tent where Briseis sat waiting. Upon seeing the younger woman, Briseis ran towards her and they embraced. "Oh, I've been so worried about you!" Briseis put her hands on Arsinoë's cheeks and tears pooled in both of their eyes.

"And I about you. Have you been well treated?" She looked Briseis up and down, noticing her new gown of green cloth. Briseis nodded and took her to sit down on Achilles' leather couch.

Neither of them heard Patroclus leave.

"Yes," she answered. "Achilles has treated me very well. He..." She wasn't sure she should tell Arsinoë what she had been through. "He rescued me from Agamemnon's men." To her great surprise, Arsinoë just nodded.

"I know."

"You knew?" Arsinoë nodded. "Yes. I was there. I saw it, and I saw him bring you in here." Briseis blushed slightly and Arsinoë tilted her head.

"Are you in love with him?"

"What?!" Briseis' eyes went wide and her mouth fell open.

"Very undignified for a princess," Arsinoë said quietly.

"What...what makes you say that?"

Arsinoë smiled. "You have the same look on your face that one of my sisters did when she fell in love with a stable boy." For a long moment Briseis didn't say anything. "It isn't love...not yet. But I think it could be."

She looked at the younger woman. "Do you think I'm terrible?" She asked suddenly. "He's a Greek; he came here to destroy my country. Is it awful that I feel this way?" Arsinoë just shook her head. "No. It's not terrible. It isn't something you can help. Does he feel the same way?" Her question was awarded with a brilliant smile from Briseis. "Yes, yes, I think so. Arsinoë, he is so...tender with me. Gentle. Not at all like I believed he would be."

"Then, I am glad for you," was all Arsinoë said. Briseis was releived that her cousin seemed to approve.

"But what about you?" She asked. "You look very well. I trust Patroclus has been treating you well?"

Arsinoë nodded. "He has. I was afraid of him at first, obviously. But he has been kind to me. He has seemed very..." She paused to think of the right word. "Protective of me since I was given to him. I like him." Suddenly her heart began beating rapidly and she blushed. "By the gods, Briseis, I think I am falling in love with him," she burst out.

Her cousin's gaze was kind and full of understanding. She knew what Arsinoë went through because of Paris and Helen, and if she was happy here with Achilles' cousin, then the one-time priestess couldn't be happier. "And what does he feel?"

Arsinoë smiled a cheeky smile. "He's shown me how he feels. A couple of times, now," she giggled. Briseis laughed with her.

"Yesterday," the younger girl said, "He took me to a secluded area of beach, hours away from here. Simply because I had told him how much I loved the sea. He had everything, wine and food. And then we...well, you can imagine. It was the happiest day I've had in...a long time. I never thought that I would ever fall in love, to be honest."

Briseis furrowed her brow. "Never? How sad." Arsinoë nodded. "Well, marriages for royalty aren't about love. My sister Tryphaena, as I said, fell in love with one of our young stablehands. But she could never be with him. Instead, she was sent to marry a prince on the island of Samos just after I left for Troy. And after everything that has happened with Paris, well, that just made me certain of it. But now..."

"But now that you found Patroclus," Briseis broke in, "You aren't so certain." Arsinoë smiled and looked down at her hands. "Yes, exactly. I...I'm glad that I was stolen from the temple. However queer a thought it is, it's true." Briseis could only nod. She rose from the leather couch and held out a hand to the younger woman. "Come," she said to Arsinoë. "Let's not stay in this dark tent. Let us walk along the shore as we talk." Arsinoë rose but gave Briseis a wary look.

"Are you sure that it's safe? Won't Agamemnon's men try and take you back? Or me?" But Briseis shook her head. "Not now. Now everyone knows that I...belong to Achilles. They would have to be mad to try and take either of us."

Arsinoë hesitated but trusted her cousin's reasoning. They exited the tent and made their way down to the water, both of them lifting the bottoms of their tunics and wading out into the ocean. They spent a few happy hours on the beach, chatting like they used to when they both lived in the palace, before the sun began to set and they made their way back to the Myrmidon's camp. Briseis bid her goodbye and walked back to Achilles' tent, while Arsinoë intended to look for a jug of water at the large man-made well.

"Oh, blast," she cursed when the last of the jugs were just out of her reach. "Here," came a voice from behind her. Odysseus reached out a long arm and took a red clay jug from off of it's hook and handed it down to the young princess.

"Thank-you, your Majesty," she smiled. "Not a problem, young Arsinoë. It's good to know that someone is taking good care of Achilles' cousin. I'm glad to see that Patroclus has found such a devoted..." The king of Ithica trailed off for a moment. "Friend in this country." She looked up at Odysseus and spied mischievousness in his eyes.

'By the Gods, he knows too?' She thought to herself.

"Or is there another word I should be using?" He asked. "Lover, perhaps?"

Her face burned with embarassment and she longed to be out of the king's sight. He threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, off with you, Arsinoë. I am only teasing." She tried to smile as politely as she could and turned away, hurrying back to Patroclus' tent. But she could hear his good natured chuckling as she ran from him.

She entered the tent just in time to see Patroclus guzzle down in a goblet of wine. She put down the pitcher of water she had been carrying and walked over to him. "Patroclus?" She asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. "What's the matter?" He pushed his lips together and Arsinoë could practically feel the anger rolling off of him. He took another sip and glared at her. "We're leaving!" He shrugged off her hand and stood up. He ran his fingers through his blond hair while Arsinoë stood in shock.

"Leaving?" She repeated. "Why?"

"Ask Achilles," he spat out. He poured himself more wine and paced the tent. "We came here to fight, and now we're just going to sail home? He's acting like a fool!"

"Why?" Patroclus reached a hand out and flung his armor stand to the ground. It landed with a dull crashing sound and Arsinoë flinched slightly. "Oh, only the Gods know."

"When?" She asked. She could not believe what she was hearing. The fierce Myrmidons were just going to sail away? "Tomorrow," was the response. Arsinoë lowered herself onto the bed and watched Patroclus. The way he was pacing reminded her of the lions that her family had in their private zoo.

"And what will happen to me after you leave?" Her question made Patroclus turn around and stare at her. "I...I don't know."

Arsinoë dug her fingernails into her palms. "Will I have to return to Troy?" Fear gripped her heart. "Or will Agamemnon take me, the way he tried to take Briseis?" Arsinoë rose and took deep breaths for fear of hyperventilating.

"No."

She turned back to him and saw that the anger in his eyes had turned into something else. "I won't let him take you," he told her. He took her into his arms and she inhaled the scent of his tunic. "But what can you do?" She asked, the panic coming into her voice. "Once you and the Myrmidons are gone, there won't be anyone to stop him." The tears came into her eyes before she could try and stop them. He could feel her chest heaving against his own and he stroked the back of her head.

"Come with me," he said impulsively. She pulled away from him and her mouth fell open. "Patroclus, are you serious?" He looked into Arsinoë's golden eyes and felt a tug in his chest.

He did want her with him, he realized.

"Yes, I'm serious. If I'm being forced to leave this war, I want you to come with me. To Phtia." She opened her mouth, but found that she couldn't get the words out. He felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth and he kissed her lightly.

"Would you come with me? All the way back to Greece?" Arsinoë laughed and nodded, a tear falling from her eye. One of relief and happiness. "I would go anywhere, as long as it was with you," she told him. He wiped away the tear that was rolling down her cheek and she kissed his thumb as it passed by her lips. Shooting him a coy look, Arsinoë led him over to the bed and he grinned as she laid him down and covered him with her body.

************************

They awoke to screaming. The sounds of men crying out in fear and panic seemed to echo throughout the tent. They both sat up and Patroclus got out of the bed, throwing on a long tunic.

"Stay here," he told Arsinoë, who was clutching a sheet to her chest. She nodded, struck dumb with fear. He grabbed his sword from the armor stand and left the tent for the beach, looking for answers in all the confusion. Arsinoë scrambled from the bed and put on her tunic. She could see men through the tent flaps running past, rushing to get to the unknown threat and defeat it. She stood in the middle of the tent unable to calm herself down.

Fear gripped every inch of her; fear that the Trojans were attacking and that they would find her and take her back to Troy. Her legs were numb and when she tried to take a step, Arsinoë fell to the ground. She crawled over to the corner and sat with her knees pulled up tight to her chest. Reaching over, she grabbed a fur pelt and covered herself with it. She hoped that if the Trojans were to sack the beach, she would be well hidden.

'But hiding didn't work the first time,' she thought. Gradually the cries died down, and but her heart beat did not. 'Where is Patroclus?!' It was the only thought that was in her mind, and the longer she was alone in the tent, the more worried she became. She sat, digging her fingernails into her palms, when he rushed back into the tent with excitment written all over his face. He was wearing armor, armor that wasn't his. Arsinoë was frantic.

"What's going on?!" She threw the pelt off of her and stood up, rushing to him. "The Trojans are attacking!" He told her. "They shot flamming arrow onto the sand, and nobody thought what they could be for, until Hector had his army release balls of oil soaked straw. The Trojans will follow once the fire has done its job. I think you should be safe," he added in an almost off-handed way.

"You think?!" She shrieked. She let out a sob and he grabbed her hand and sat her down on the bed. "You'll be alright," he reassured her. "The fire isn't spreading in this direction, and the Trojan army isn't attacking yet. They won't even attack the camp. It will be on the beach."

She took deep breaths and calmed down a little. "Why do you look so happy? Why are you wearing armor?" She demanded. "I had an idea!" He announced. "What is it?" Arsinoë asked. There was suddenly a very bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"I've taken his armor." She stared blankly at him, uncomprehending.

"Who's?"

"Achilles'! I've taken his armor and I'm going to pretend to be him. I'm going to lead the Myrmidons into battle!" From the look on his face, it was clear he expected her to be happy he had come up with such a clever plan. But her confused expression quickly turned to one of horror and she stood up.

"What? Why?" Patroclus looked baffled that she would even ask him that.

"Because I came to Troy to fight in a war, not sit on the beach while everyone else does the fighting, and gets all the glory."

"That's all you care about?" She asked. "Glory?"

"What else is there?" He retorted. Arsinoë felt a chill run down her spine, and there was tightness around her heart. What would happen to her if something hapened to him? She didn't know what she would do if anything happened to Patroclus.

"I don't think you should do it," she said in a rush. In a flash, the excitment was gone from his face and in its place was annoyance. "And why is that?"

"What if something happens to you?" He brushed away her words with a wave of his hand. "Nothing will happen to me," he said with certainty. "Achilles has taught me everything he knows about fighting. I will be untouchable." Arsinoë shook her head, trying to form a proper sentance. "But...but what if you happen upon Hector? Hector is an amazing warrior, the best in Troy."

"And you think I'm not good enough to match up against him?" She bit her lips, not wanting to lie, but unable to say anything that wouldn't offend him or his pride.

"No," she told him honestly. His eyes narrowed and he scowled. "I'm not saying it to be cruel. I just don't want you to go through with it, Patroclus. You have no idea how scared I would be for you. Waiting in here while you were fighting out there? And as Achilles? He would be a target for Hector, and you know it. I just..." She stopped speaking when she felt a lump forming in her throat. She stared at the roof and blinked rapidly, trying to hide the tears and she didn't see his face soften. Sniffing, she jumped when she felt his hands on her arms and he drew her close.

"Please don't go."

"You don't have to worry," he whispered into her hair. "Nothing is going to happen to me. I'll come back a hero, you'll see. I'll be fine." He kissed her hard on the lips and put his helmet on. Achilles' helmet. As he walked out, Arsione had to admit that he looked exactly like Achilles. He would fool the Myrmidons. Even if some of them were suspicious, she assumed they would dismiss it once the battle began. She had to do something. She couldn't just sit back and let Patroclus go through with his plan. Arsinoë didn't care how much Achilles had taught him about war and fighting, she couldn't risk him coming up against Hector. Making her way to the door, she looked out and saw that the camp was in chaos and that Patroclus was no where in sight.

She cried out with a mixture of fear and frustration, Whirling around in the tent, Arsinoë felt a sense of helplessness fall over her. What could she do? Who could she go to? Of course! Achilles! She had to find Achilles and tell him of this foolishness. Running out of the tent, she dodged soldiers hurrying towards the rest of the army and no one paid her any attention as she ran through the camp. She ran into Achilles' tent and was relieved to see her him sitting with her cousin, seemingly untroubled by the impending battle. "Briseis!" The older woman looked up in surprise and ran over to her. "What are you doing running around the camp right now? You could have been hurt!"

Arsinoë shook her head."It isn't me you need to worry about," she told them, looking to Achilles. "Arsinoë? What's the matter?" "It's..." Panting, Arsinoë wasn't completely sure she wanted to tell anyone. Patrolcus had told her of his plan because he trusted her, and here she was about to betray his trust. 'But it's for his own safety,' she reasoned with herself. She just hoped he would forgive her. "It's Patroclus. He...came to me just now, dressed in your armor. He has led the Myrmidons into battle."

Achilles rose and met Arsinoë in the middle of the tent. "What?"

Licking her lips, Arsinoë told him. "He took your armor and was able to fool the men into thinking that he was you. Then he rallied them and led them into battle. They just left." She finished with a worried sigh and Achilles glared at her. He scowled and left the tent without a word.

Arsinoë glanced at Briseis before running out after him. Dodging running soldiers, she saw the warlord coming out of Patroclus' tent with his cousin's sword in his hand. Arsinoë's heart lurched and she realized that he was going after the Myrmidons. 'Without any armor?' She thought. She could hear Briseis' voice calling her back into the tent, but she ignored it and ran after Achilles as the light of pre-dawn approached. He didn't seem to see her, or he just didn't care whether she followed him or not. Either way, he didn't turn around and tell her to go back to the camp. So she continued to follow him until they reached the Greek army. The pair made it to the edge of the battlefield and looking past the Greeks, she saw the Trojans and her heart nearly stopped. It seemed that Troy had emptied itself of soldiers, and they were all on the beach to prove it. She had been a Trojan, and still she felt fear as she saw and heard Hector, for it could only be Hector, bang his spear against his shield as the Trojan army marched towards the Greeks. The sound of spear on shield was nearly deafening, and the thick black smoke from the fires made her eyes sting, but still Arsinoë kept up to Achilles. Achilles had stopped as he reached the outer ranks of unorganised men and Arsinoë stopped with him. She spotted Odysseus in the front ranks, but there was no sign of the Myrmidons.

"Where are they?" Arsinoë asked quietly. Achilles did not hear her, or if he did he didn't bother to answer. Then gradually, there was the sound of cheering coming for their left. A group of men in very recognizable armor ran past the rest of the Greek army, all of them cheering when they saw the group, and she knew it was Patroclus leading Achilles' men to the front. How could it be anyone but the Myrmidons? She saw Hector standing with his generals and she saw his eyes zero in on them. The Prince of Troy gave a war cry and the Trojan army charged. For a split second her mind went back to when she had watched the battle with the Myrmidons, standing on that little cliff. She had though of the ocean during a storm and two great waves crashing together.

Arsinoë realized that it would be nothing like the ocean.

Her heart felt like it was pounding out of her chest. They were all running fast now, Trojan and Greek, moving closer and closer together until they came together in a clash of spears and shields, the screaming already beginning as men were cut down in the cool morning air. She couldn't tell which army was winning and which was losing, but the one thing she did see was death. Already, bodies littered the beach of Troy and it was barely past morning's first light. She could easily tell the difference between the Greeks' armor and the Trojans', and Arsinoë quickly found Hector in the crowd of soldiers. She saw him fight and weave his way through the Greeks, and Arsinoë knew that he was trying to get to the Myrmidons. Farther down the line, her eyes finally found the Myrmidons, and she saw the flash of Achilles' shield. 'Patroclus,' she thought to herself as she tried to separate her relief and her fear. She watched as he, too, made his way towards Hector, killing men with his cousin's sword as if it were the most natural thing in the world. From the corner of her eye, she saw Achilles take a step. She made the move to run where he ran, but he turned to her.

"Go back to the camp," he ordered her. "Go and wait with Briseis."

"No."

He threatened to make her, but Arsinoë still refused. "You can drag me back to camp, but it would just cost you time." She thought Achilles would hit her, that's how angry he looked, but he just glared down at her. "Stay here!" He growled, and set off at a run. Arsinoë waited for one tense moment before sprinting after him.

'May the Gods protect me,' she thought, as she ran through the first group of fighting men.

Duck. That's all she would have to do. Try and stay as low to the ground as possible, and dodge a few sword thrusts. Easier said than done, but it was all she could remember of what her brother had told her.

She was going to die on this beach. She was a fool, a mad fool and she knew it. What was she thinking running through a beach full of soldiers? Trained men, who would skewer her without a second thought because she was out on the battlefield, in their way, all to try and protect a man who might not need protecting. Even if she came upon Hector, what could she do? Yell to him over the deafening sound of the men; run up to him and shout stop?

Ahead of her, she saw Achilles run in a straight line towards the Myrmidons, cutting men down with Patroclus' sword and leaving a trail of dead men for Arsinoë to jump over. But instead of being able to run through the trail of men, she was knocked to the ground by a Trojan and she was just barely able to roll out of the way of his sword thrust. Grabbing onto a stray shield, she crawled as fast as she could to where she had last seen Achilles, who was still running and getting farther and farther away.

"Aahh!" She cried out in pain as a sword sliced the back of her thigh. She turned and looked up to see a Greek she had never seen before standing over her with a grin, sword poised to kill.

"So the Trojans send their little whores out to fight for them, eh? Perhaps I'll take you for myself, what do you think of that?" He continued to grin at her until a Trojan soldier ran him through.

The man fell beside her and the Trojan moved on, but Arsinoë was paralysed with fear. She felt something wet run down her leg, and she was surprised to see not blood, but urine pooling on the sand.

With quick, sharp breaths, she forced herself to stand up and move forward. The cut on her leg wasn't terribly deep, but she was limping as she tried to run forward to where both Greek and Trojan soldiers had formed a circle. She pushed her way to the front of the crowd and her breath was caught in her throat. Her lungs burned but she couldn't see Achilles anywhere. Pushing her way past soldiers, she came upon Hector and 'Achilles' facing off inside a man-made circle with men standing aorund them. The two men were circling each other like bucks after the same rut before Hector struck first, thrusting at 'Achilles' with his sword. Arsinoë squeezed her way throught the crowd of cheering men and, even though she was on the Greeks' side of the circle, began crying out to Hector.

"Hector! Hector! Stop!" But her former brother-in-law couldn't hear her. She felt a hand grip her tightly on her upper arm, and Arsinoë looked over to see Eudorus staring at her with horror. "Arsinoë?! What in the name of the gods are you doing here?"

"That isn't Achilles," she cried at once. "It's not him, it's Patroclus!"

His face was the picture of shock and he looked at the two men fighting, gasping when he saw the real Achilles burst through the crowd of men. At once the Greeks stopped cheering and Patroclus' focus was broken. He turned and spotted his cousin, and he felt his sword hand tremble slightly. Hector, however, was no so easily distracted, and when 'Achilles' lowered his shield, he struck. He thrust out with his sword just as Patroclus leapt backwards, and the tip of the prince's sword caught the flesh of his opponent's throat. The Trojans were silent as they saw Hector wound the great Achilles.

"No!" Achilles cry rang out through the crowd. He pushed past the Greeks and ran to where his cousin had fallen in the sand, gently taking off the helmet.

The soldiers were still.

Hector's chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. He took off his helmet and watched the boy he thought had been Achilles struggle for air as the warlord tried to stop the bleeding. The two sides of soldiers stood still, not knowing what to do. Arsinoë felt her heart stop.

"By the Gods," she whispered.

Eudorus tried to hold on to her, but she slipped out of his grip and ran for Patroclus. From the silent men all around Hector, came a voice that he knew all too well.

"Patroclus!"

As if from a dream, Hector saw Arsinoë ran through the crowd and fell to Patroclus' side. "Arsinoë?" Odessyus questioned from the crowd. "Patroclus!" She cried out, ignoring everybody else. Achilles' hand was on the younger man's throat, applying pressure to stop the blood flow; it was something Arsinoë had learned from the healers in Phocaea. Hector and the rest of the Trojans watched in awe as they saw Troy's youngest princess take the Greek's hand in her own and begin to cry.

"Arsinoë?" Hector threw off his helmet to the ground and walked over to her. He watched as the boy on the ground squeezed his sister's hand and wimpered. "Sshhh," she said to him, trying to get him to remain calm. Patroclus tried to say her name, but his mouth was filling with blood. His own blood. From his mouth came a wet gurgle as blood flowed onto the sand. "You have to get him to a doctor," she told Achilles through her tears, but he didn't seem to hear her. "Arsinoë!" She looked up from Patroclus and saw Hector staring down at her.

"I thought you were dead!"

She could only shake her head as she turned her eyes back to the man laying on the ground. Hector was amazed. He heard Patroclus cry out weakly and saw him reach out for Arsinoë. He thought that little Arsinoë was dead, and yet here she was. He motioned to two soldiers.

"Take her back tot he city," he ordered. The two Trojans acted quickly and grabbed the kneeling girl from the sand. They pulled her backwards towards the Trojan army, but she tried to dig her heels into the ground. "No! Let go of me!" She cried. She fought them and tried to break away, but they were much stronger then she was. "Hector, no! Achilles!" Her voice called out to him for help, but he did not hear her; he was concentrating on one thing only and that was his cousin.

Odysseus watched as the girl was dragged back and engulfed by Tojans, and he could still hear her cries for them to release her. None of the Greeks stepped forward to stop the abduction, they didn't even seem aware that it had just happened. Everyone was focused on Achilles and Patroclus. He saw a chariot take off towards Troy, and she saw that Arsinoë had to be restrained by one of the men. He could have tried to stop them, but although he felt pity for the girl, he knew he wouldn't have succeded. Once the cries had gotten too far away to hear, Hector took a step forward, but he stopped when he heard Achilles' voice.

"If he dies, Prince, I'm going to cut out your heart."

Hector was silent as Achilles called out for his Myrmidons, and they picked up Patroclus' body and hurriedly began their way back to camp. Achilles led the way as Hector made his way to Odysseus.

"Enough for one day," the Trojan prince told the king of Ithica. Odysseus nodded his head in agreement. "Back to the ships," he called out.

"It was his cousin," he told Hector, who's shoulders slumped at the news.

"I don't think she wanted to go," he said to Hector, speaking of Arsinoë. Hector took a step closer and growled. "If nothing else has come from this day, then at least I can say that I was able to rescue my sister and return her safely back to the city."

"Your sister?" Odysseus echoed quietly. "Yes," Hector admitted. "She was Paris' wife. Before Helen came," he finished diplomatically.

"She didn't need rescuing, Prince Hector," he told the younger man.

"Oh no?" Hector asked, sarcasm dripping from the two little words.

"No. There was nothing to be rescued from."

"What do you mean?" Hector questioned, sensing something in the other man's voice that wasn't quite right.

"What I mean is, Arsinoë was given to Patroclus as a captive, but she quickly became more to him than that. He loves her, whether he knows it or not. He did all he could to keep her safe from Agamemnon's men. She was safe in our camp. And happy."

"Happy?" Hector echoed, wondering how truthful this king was being. "With a Greek?"

"Yes. I saw her almost everyday, and everyday I saw her, she looked happier then the last." Odysseus tapped his helmet. "Use your head, Prince. Why else would a girl risk death on a battlfield? She was trying to stop him from fighting you, I gather." He frowned suddenly. "You say she was your brother's wife?" Hector nodded and the king thought of his own beloved Penelope. "Then I would have to say any woman who's husband has treated her thus deserves to be happy. Even if it is with a Greek." Without another word, Odysseus spun around and made his way back to the ships.

"By the Gods," he whispered. "What have I done?" Standing in his spot for a moment, he turned back to his army. "Back to the city," he told them, moving away from the battlefield. He looked at Glaucus, his eyes filled with regret. He may have just slain a boy today, and that hit his heart hard. And now, if Odysseus was telling the truth, taking Arsinoë may have been the very worse thing he could have done to her.


	3. Chapter 3

The royal family waited on the outside balcony for the army to return. They were all tense, none more than Andromache. Helen watched her with pity. No one spoke, they just watched the horizon and they saw a chariot racing to the gates. Andromache stood up and ran to the ledge.

"That's Hector's chariot," she whispered to herself, fear flooding through her body. She ran from the balcony, flying down the many flights of stairs until she came to the front steps of the palace. The chairot had already entered through the gates of Troy and was now thundering up the main street. Running down to meet it, Andromache was struck with an odd scene; There were two men in the vehicle and Hector was nowhere to be seen. One of the men was holding something in his arms. She stopped running and let the chariot come to her. As it came closer, she saw that the 'something' in his arms was a person.

A woman.

Confusion filled her head, and then it suddenly dawned on her. 'It cannot be...Briseis!' Andromache thought to herself. 'Or Arsinoë!' The chariot lurched as it came to a stop and soldiers surrounded Andromache as the two men stepped down from the chariot. The man still had the woman in his arms, and the princess saw why: she was barely consious. At once, Andromache knew that it wasn't Briseis.

"Arsinoë!" She cried. Arsinoë tried to move but was held back by the soldier.

"Let me go," Andromache heard her mumble. She was almost incoherent. "Arsinoë?" Andromache repeated, growing concerned. She ran to her and gave the soldier a questioning look.

"She needs a doctor, you highness."

Andromache nodded at once and motioned for him to bring Arsinoë into the palace. "Bring her to my chambers," she told the man, and she sent one of her maids to call for a doctor. The soldier laid Arsinoë on she and Hector's bed and Andromache sat next to her. "Arsinoë?" The younger woman lay with her eyes half open and her breathing was ragged. She took Arsinoë's hand in her own and kissed it, amazed that she was still alive and back in Troy.

"No," she mumbled. "Let me go." She tried to sit up but Andromache gently pushed her back down. "Arsinoë, you're home again. You are back in Troy. You are safe." She tried to reassure the young princess, but it seemed that Arsinoë had not even heard her words. Her eyes closed and for a moment Andromache feared that she had died, until her chest began to rise and fall. Andromache took a moment to study the young woman. She was in a blue gown that was made from coarse fabric, and Andromache had never seen her in such a common garment.

"No, this is a man's tunic," she stated out loud. "Strange." Arsinoë's skin had always been a lovely bronze, but now she was so tanned that she could have been mistaken for a peasant. She was barefoot and there was dried blood on her skin. "Blood?" Andromache lifted the tunic and saw there was a trail of blood leading up her leg. There was a knock at the door and Andromache called out for them to come in. Her maid entered with the doctor following, along with his assistants. The doctor, who's name was Ephiartes, rushed over to the bed and Andromache moved out of the way.

"She fell unconcious just moments ago," she told him. Ephiartes only nodded and peered at the blood on her foot. He did the same as Andromache, and lifted the tunic up to discover the wound. Andromache gasped quietly when she saw it. The doctor genty examined it and motioned for one of his assistants to bring him an medium sized wooden box. Opening it, he took out a little jar of light yellow ointment and uncorked it. "The wound it not deep, your highness," he said. "Roll her over." The assistants did as they were told and rolled Arsinoë over onto her stomach. He again pushed the tunic up past the wound and began rubbing the ointment on it. "This will stop infection," he told Andromache. The princess could only nod. "When will she wake up?" She questioned. Ephiartes shook his head. "I do not know, your highness." He put the ointment back into the wooden box and placed a clean piece of linen over the wound.

"Your higness?" Called a young maid from the doorway. "The army is returning. Prince Hector is with them." Andromache put a hand on her chest and let out a breath. "Thank the Gods," she exclaimed. She looked back to the bed, to where Arsinoë had just been placed on her back again with a linen bandage wrapped around her thigh. "Go, your highness," Ephiartes told her kindly. "She is in good hands."

Andromache sent one last glance to Arsinoë before leaving her rooms and rushing back outside. Now, Priam and his court were there, along with Paris and Helen. She had to hold herself back from jumping into Hector's arms; instead she waited for her husband to come to her. When he did, she could see the despair in his eyes.

"Hector, what is it?" He did not answer at first, content to simply take her into his arms. "Later," he whispered into her ear. Andromache nodded and watched as her husband walked slowly into the palace.

****

Arsinoë slowly awoke, and blindly reached out for Patroclus. When she did not feel his body, she opened her eyes and the light nearly blinded her. Shielding her face, she waited until she was used to the amount of sunlight in the room.

"Oh, no," she said softly. "No."

It wasn't a dream. She was back in Troy. Tears came to her eyes as she sat up. Looking around, she recognized Hector and Andromache's chamber. She looked down and saw the bandage around her leg. Memories flooded into her head. The stray sword. The battlefield. Patroclus. "Oh, Patroclus," she moaned, tears coming to her eyes. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. What had happened to him after she had been taken away? Had they gotten him to a doctor on time? Was he alive, or had he died? That thought caused a sharp pain in her chest, and Arsinoë had to stand up. She took deep breaths, but the tears would not go away.

"Oh, Gods," she whimpered. "Oh, please..."

'It was my fault,' she thought suddenly to herself. 'If I hadn't ran to Achilles, Patroclus wouldn't have gotten distracted while he was fighting. He might not have gotten hurt.' Arsinoë paced around the room, her leg beginning to ache now that the adrenaline was long gone. She dug her nails into her palms and looked out the balcony towards the ships. 'Hector shouldn't have brought me back here. I have to get out of Troy and go back to the ships. I...' Her thoughts were inturrupted by a maid that walked into the room. Upon seeing Arsinoë awake, she put her hands to her chest and smiled.

"Your highness, you are awake! Thank the Gods Prince Hector found you. We had all given up hope! Come with me." The maid took ahold of her hand and Arsinoë let herself be led out of the room. She was taken out of Hector and Andromache's chambers and led out into the gardens, where the couple sat next to a fountain. She tried to break away, but the maid held her firm and Andromache spotted her and and began running towards her. 'Too much,' she thought to herself. 'This is too much.' She needed to be with Patroclus. She had to make sure he was going to be alright.

"Arsinoë!" Andromache yelled out as she met the younger woman in a tight hug. She was so happy to see the girl had regained conciousness and she didn't notice that Arsinoë stood with her arms limp. "Thank the gods that you're alive!" The older princess began to cry, but Arsinoë looked past her towards Hector. He rose and walked over to where the two women stood. "Arsinoë," he began, but she shook her head. She was conflicted. This was Hector, the man she had loved as a brother for almost a year. But on the other hand, he had most likely killed Patroclus. She glared at him slightly as he stood before her.

'He thought it was Achilles,' she reminded herself. Arsinoë felt her chin quiver, and she threw herself into his arms. Andromache watched her husband stroke Arsinoë's hair as she sobbed into his tunic. "I'm sorry, Arsinoë," he whispered to her. She broke apart and looked up at him, and was sure that he was speaking of Patroclus. She tried to speak but could find no words. 'So he is dead, then,' she concluded. 'Hector was still there after I was taken; he would know for sure.' For a moment, Arsinoë was numb. She couldn't breathe once again and she staggered backwards onto a stone bench.

"Arsinoë!" Andromache moved and placed a hand on her shoulder. She sat on the bench and gasped for air, trying desperately to draw it into her lungs. Andromache looked over her head at Hector, who's face was the picture of guilt and remorse. 'What did they do to you, Arsinoë?' She thought. She squeezed Arsinoë's shoulder and looked up as the three heard someone coming towards them. Hector glanced up and saw his brother enter the garden with Helen on his arm.

'Paris, you fool!' Thought Hector. 'Don't bring her in here.' He walked over to his brother and was about to tell the pair to turn around, when Arsinoë looked up. There was silence in the garden as Arsinoë stood up from the bench. Paris stared at her and watched her face contort with rage.

"You!" Arsinoë screamed when she saw Paris with Helen. "This is because of you! All of it!" It wasn't her fault after all, she realized. There wouldn't even BE a war if Paris hadn't brought Helen back with him. 'Patroclus would still be alive back in Phtia,' she thought. Without warning, she flew at the young prince with her fingers curled up like claws, and when Hector pulled her off, Paris had scratch marks on his neck and chest. "Guards!" Hector called. "Take her away," he commanded them when they came running. They dragged her away from the garden and took her to the rooms she had occupied before being captured. Hector closed his eyes and he could hear her echoed wailing. He had never seen her like this, even when Helen had been brought to Troy. With a sigh full of regret, he turned around and saw looks of horror on all of their faces.

"Has she gone mad?" Paris snapped. Helen dabbed at the bloody claw marks with the hem of her stole, and shot a vile look down the hallway. Andromache, on the other hand, looked almost sympathetic. "Perhaps I should go and speak with her." Hector shook his head. "Wait until she has calmed down. Besides, I would speak with you beforehand." His wife hesitated, but then nodded her agreement before turning and walking away in the opposite direction towards her chambers. Hector joined her awhile later and sat down on their bed. Andromache walked over and ran her hand through his hair. She sighed. "Poor Arsinoë. I can only imagine what the Greeks did to her."

Hector shook his head, recalling what Odysseus had told him. "You could imagine all you want, my love. But you would be wrong."

"Wrong?" She said slowly. "What are you talking about?" Hector took her hand and sat her down next to him.

"The man she was given to was Achilles' cousin."

Andromache gasped.

"But I spoke to the king of Ithica after the battle was over, and he told me..."

"Told you what?" she questioned. She was sure that she was about to hear a horrible tale of what was done to Arsinoë.

"Odysseus told me that the cousin...loved her. He protected her. And that she was happy with him." Andromache just blinked. "What are you saying?"

Hector looked at his wife. "I'm saying, Andromache, that I took her away from her lover. And I probably killed him, as well."

That night, Andromache went to Arsinoë's rooms. The guards posted outside of the doors told her that the young woman had refused all food and water, and that she had been crying all day. Andromache said nothing in response, she just opened one of the doors and went inside. She was greeted by the muffled sounds of crying, and she saw Arsinoë laying on the bed sobbing into her pillows. Quietly walking over, she sat down on the bed and gently put her hand on the young woman's back. Arsinoë lifted her head and her eyes were swollen and red with tears. Her chin quivered at the sight of her former sister-in-law and Andromache cupped the girl's face, smoothing down her tangled hair.

"Hector told me about him," was all she said.

A tear ran down Arsinoë's cheek. "He shouldn't have brought me back here," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "He should have left me where I was."

"I know you feel that way now," the older princess said. "But you're home now." Arsinoë shook her head and sat up.

Andromache didn't understand. Arsinoë thought of Patroclus and she clenched her jaw. He was dead, and she didn't even get the chance to say goodbye. "I was happy, Andromache. I was so happy with him. But now he's gone. And Hector took me away. I didn't even..." Her vision became blurry and she stopped speaking. Andromache studied the girl and was worried by what she saw.

"Have you eaten anything?" She asked, trying to change the subject. But Arsinoë shook her head. "I'm not hungry," she whispered.

"Some wine, perhaps? Or water?"

"I don't want wine. Or water. I want you to leave me."

"Arsinoë," Andromache began, but Arsinoë cut her off.

"Leave me," she snapped. Andromache blinked and stood up. At the door, she paused and turned back around. "Arsinoë, I know it hurts now, but the pain will fade in time."

"It will never fade," she said, looking at the wall.

"Then you must treasure the memories that you have of him. Or would you prefer never to have met him?"

"All the better, then," Arsinoë reasoned, her voice harsh. "I would have him alive back in Phtia and a stranger to me if it meant that he would still draw breath!" Arsinoë got up and walked to her balcony and Andromache knew not to follow. She walked out the door and back to her own chambers. Hector was there waiting for her, holding their son. "How is she?" He asked.

Andromache gave him a sad smile. "I think she is heartbroken," she told her husband.

"Because I took him away from her," Hector mourned. Ancdromache took Astyanax from him and shook her head. "You couldn't have known."

"King Odysseus was right. I didn't stop to think was she would have been on the battlefield. And I killed him." He rested his head in his hands. "Are you sure?" Andromache wondered. "Perhaps you only wounded him." Hector looked up at his wife. "Was he alive when he was taken from the battlefield?" She asked, putting Astyanax into his cradle. "Only just," Hector lamented. "But one does not often live long with a wound like that. She will never forgive me."

Andromache couldn't say anything; Hector was probably right. Arsinoë had embraced him this afternoon, but that was before Hector all but took away her hope. They sat together in their chambers until the sun was taken from the sky, and Hector left her then. He walked slowly down the corridor and stood in front of Arsinoë's doors. Taking a breath, he walked into her rooms and looked around. She was nowhere to be seen.

"Arsinoë?" He called out.

There was no reply, but he heard a noise from out on the balcony. Walking out into the night air, Hector saw her huddled in the corner staring out at the darkness. "Arsinoë!" He walked back inside and got a blanket from her bed, and draped it over her shoulders. "You're going to freeze out here," he told her. She only shrugged. Although unsure about her feelings for him, Hector sat down next to her. "Arsinoë, what's happened to Briseis?"

"She is fine," she told him, looking over at him. "Safe. With Achilles."

"Achilles?" He echoed. "Achilles. And how does he treat her?"

"She is very well treated. She had been taken by Agamemnon for a time, but Achilled refused to fight until he got her back. He did get her back, but he still refused to fight. Because of her. We spoke of it, she and I, and she thought she was falling in love with him." Her amber eyes suddenly went hard. "I don't suggest trying to take her away from him. It wouldn't be so easy as the first time." "Arsinoë," he began, but she cut him off. "Don't. Not yet." She turned her head away from him and bit her lip.

"What was his name?"

Arsinoë took a moment before answering. "Patroclus. His name was Patroclus."

Hoping it wouldn't offend her, he moved over and put his arm around her. She didn't lean into him, but she didn't pull away either. Hector was fine with that. He sat with her for nealy an hour in silence before she let him pull her up. He led her inside and put her to bed like a small child. He placed a hand on her cheek and stroked her skin with his thumb. "Try to get some sleep, Arsinoë. Alright?" She didn't reply until he was already at the doors. "I will sleep," he heard her say. "And pray that I never wake up."

But as the sun rose in the sky, Arsinoë found herself waking up in her chambers once again. She got up at once and called for the servants to light the fires under her bathing pool. Once the water was hot, she stepped in and sunk down up to her neck. Her maid knelt behind her, pouring fragrant oils into her hair and washing her back. One maid brought Arsinoë's gowns and held them out for her to choose, and she chose to wear a simple gown of blue silk with embroidery of gold thread. Getting out of the pool, she held out her arms as the maids dried her off. She hissed in pain as the cloth was brushed roughly over the wound on her leg.

"Be careful," she snapped. "I'm sorry, your highness," the girl whispered. Arsinoë didn't say anything in response. Instead, she just stood as the maids dressed her and combed her hair, before putting it up in a complex style. Once the maids left her chambers, Arsinoë sat and looked at her reflection in her looking glass.

Breathing heavily, she began to rip out all of the hairpins and she let her hair tumble down her back. She stared at herself, a frown marring her pretty face. She looked away from herself and spied her blue tunic laying on the bed. Earlier that morning, one of the maids had offered to throw it out for her. Arsinoë in turn had threatened to have the girl whipped. It surprised her how she was acting towards them now; Arsinoë had always been so pleasant to her maids, but now she couldn't stand to be in their presence.

She walked over to the bed and picked up the tunic. Holding it in her hands, Arsinoë put it to her nose and breathed deep, taking in the scent of Patroclus. She knew that one day soon it would fade out of the fabric, and that thought nearly killed her. She sat down on the bed and let out a deep sigh. Looking around the room, she realized that she couldn't stay in Troy any longer. She had to get away as soon as she could. Sniffing, she gently folded the tunic and placed it next to her pillow. Then she got back into bed. An invitation to dine with Andromache came and went, and still she lay in bed. She stayed there until dark, completely unaware of the passing time. A knock at the door startled her, and she thought she could hear Andromache's voice outside. "Come in," she called softly. Andromache entered the chamber and saw Arsinoë. She had brought a tray of fruit and bread with her, but she put it down on a table and walked over to the bed.

"Oh, dearest Arsinoë," she said gently. Arsinoë looked up at the woman she still considered a sister.

"I'm sorry I declined your invitation," she whispered. Andromache laughed quietly and got into bed next to her. "It's alright." Andromache reached over and put her hand over Arsinoë's.

"He was going to take me with him," she said despairingly. Tears pooled in her eyes and they fell onto the pillow. "The Myrmidons were going to sail home, Andromache, and he told me that he wanted me to go back to Greece with him."

"And you were going to go?"

"Of course," Arsinoë told her.

Andromache couldn't blame the girl. If Hector had asked her to run away to the ends of the earth with him, she would have agreed. "Arsinoë, I'm worried." "Why?" Andromache squeezed her hand. "If Hector did kill Patroclus, than Achilles will want revenge. Against Hector." Arsinoë took a ragged breath in, realizing that that was the truth. "I...I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry, Andromache. Perhaps...perhaps Briseis will be able to convince him otherwise." Andromache blinked away tears. "May the Gods help her do it."

"Do you blame them?" Arsinoë asked suddenly. "Paris and Helen. Do you blame them for all of this?" From beside her, Andromache let out a breath. "Yes and no. I know this war is all their fault, but at the same time, I know that I would do anything for love. Like they did." Arsinoë nodded, and while she hated Paris with a passion, she only now could understand.

The two women stayed up for the rest of the night, talking, crying, and eventually eating from the tray Andromache had brought. When morning's first light began to peek through the windows, Andromache was able to coax Arsinoë into getting changed and leaving her chambers. She quickly changed into a white silk gown, and the two made their way into the dining hall with little Astyanax in his mother's arms. Entering the hall, they saw that they were the last of the royal family to gather. Priam was sitting on his throne in the front of the room, with Hector by his side. Paris sat on a low couch with Helen next to him, and Arsinoë narrowed her eyes.

It wasn't fair. Here they were, so happy with each other, while a better man than Paris was probably on a pyre by now. They all looked up when they heard the three come it the hall, and Helen smiled and rose to her feet, the assult on Paris seemingly forgotten.

"Arsinoë, isn't it?" She hugged the girl lightly. "I was so relieved when I heard you were rescued."

"You were?" She asked the blonde Helen. She nodded. "Everyone was so worried about you and Briseis." Arsinoë raised an eyebrow. "Really?" She asked. "Everyone?" She turned to Paris and saw that he avoided her eyes. She saw the claw marks marring his flesh and she smiled. "Were you surprised to see me?" She asked Paris sweetly, walking over to the couch. "I...I thought you..."

"You thought I was dead?" A pause. "And gone? I'm sorry to disappoint you, dear husband," she sneered. "Husband?" Helen softly questioned from where she was standing. "Paris, you told me that she was your cousin." Paris had the grace to look ashamed, but the look was aimed at Helen, not Arsinoë. She turned to look at the blonde with the tiniest smirk on her face. "No, I was his wife. It seems you aren't the only one who grew bored with their spouse." "Arsinoë," King Priam chided from his throne. The young woman turned to stare at her former father-in-law. This was the fool that allowed Helen to stay in Troy. She turned back to Helen. It was obvious that she hadn't known the truth, and she felt a stab of guilt. "I'm sorry, Helen. I shouldn't have said that. But it's true, isn't it?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Paris argued. Arsinoë stood glaring at him, knowing that none of the family wanted to get in the middle. "How many alliances have you broken with this love affair of yours, Paris? I'm surprised that my father hasn't sent his army to aid the Greeks. Perhaps I should send him another message."

"That is treason," Priam thundered, gripping the arms of his throne.

"So is this!" She hissed, pointing at Helen and Paris.

Arsinoë remembered a time when she never would have raised her voice, or argued with any of the royal family. But now everything was different. She stood in the now silent room glaring at the king, when a guard came running into the room.

"Your highnesses," he said to the family. "There is a chariot fastly approaching the gates." Andromache turned her eyes to Hector. "Achilles," she saw him murmer. All the bitterness Arsinoë had been feeling towards Hector slipped away when the guard made his announcment. Her hand reached out and gripped Andromache's as they watched Hector leave his father's side and exit the hall.

"Hector!" Andromache cried out. She followed him out, taking her son with her. Arsinoë didn't waste another glance at the others; she was quick on Andromache's heels. She ran up to the viewing balcony, along with half the court, and looked down over the gates. It was indeed Achilles' chariot. She felt a sob crawl up her throat. This was the final bit of proof that she had been fearing. Hector had killed Patroclus, and now Achilles was here to avenge him. "Hector!" Came the cry from outside the gates. "Hector!" She heard footsteps and she looked up to see Hector. He was wearing his armor.

"What are you doing?" She asked. "Going to fight him? Why? You don't have to!"

Hector gazed down at her. "Yes, I do." He took her hand in his own. "I'm sorry, Arsinoë. For everything." He pulled her into an embrace, and she fought back her tears. Next, he knelt to is father, who had joined the court just after Achilles had arrived. "Father," he began. "Forgive me for any offences. I've served you as best as I could." Priam leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. "May the Gods be with you." Hector rose and turned away but Priam called him back. "Hector. No man could have had a better son." He moved to his general, Glaucus, and then to Paris. "You're the best man I know," Paris said to his older brother. They embraced and Hector, like his father did to him, kissed Paris on the forehead. "You're a Prince of Troy," he stated. "I know you'll make me proud."

He left the balcony and Arsinoë saw Andromache standing there with Astyanax. She watched as they talked, probably saying the same things as she and Hector did. He whispered something in her ear, kissed his baby, and embraced his wife. Arsinoë put a hand to her mouth as Andromache made her way up the stairs. After a few moments, the Trojans saw him exit through the gates. Helen ran up the steps and took a spot next to Paris. The two men on the ground appeared to be talking, and they were all waiting for what was to come.

But it never came. The two men didn't draw swords, or throw their spears. In fact, Achilles' didn't even have a spear to throw.

"What's going on down there?" Paris wondered aloud.

Just before he walked through the gates, Hector was preparing himself for a fight. A fight that he probably wouldn't walk away from. Taking a deep breath, he motioned for the guards to open the gate. He stood in his spot for a full minute before he left the city walls. He lifted his shield up and walked up to Achilles.

But what shocked Hector was that the warlord was armed with only a short sword and nothing else.

"You can put that spear away, Prince. It's not you I'm here for."

Hector was dumbstruck. "No?"

"Not today." Hector shook his head. "Then why are you here?"

Achilles gave a small smirk. "I'm here for the girl."

The prince took off his helmet and threw it to the sand. "Arsinoë?" Achilles' smirk widened. "That's the one. I'm taking her back." Hector didn't know what to think.

"Why?"

"Because my cousin wants her back," was Achilles' simple reason. "So he is alive, then? Your cousin?" The Greek nodded his head curtly. "It seems you can't even kill my cousin. What chance do you think you would have against me?"

Hector ignored his comment. "What if she doen't want to go back with you?" He asked.

Achilles raised an eyebrow. "From what I remember, she didn't want to leave when you took her back to Troy." Hector narrowed his eyes. "And you think I'm just going to hand her over to you?"

Achilles shifted from one foot to the other, impatient. "I know you will, Prince. Because it's what she wants, isn't it?" Hector didn't answer. Instead he asked, "Will she be taken care of? As I've heard Briseis is." He saw Achilles' face soften when he mentioned Briseis. "She will be. If he lives. If he doesn't, I'll give her back to you. And if he dies, I'll be back with my sword."

Hector could only nod.

"Does he love her?" He asked of Patroclus. Achilles gave a small chuckle. "You'll have to ask him that yourself." He saw Hector scowl and he relented. "He does." Hector considered everything for a moment, and finally nodded. "She doesn't want to stay here," he told the other man honestly. Then he picked up his helmet and walked back though the gates.

Paris, Andromache, and Arsinoë were down the stairs to meet him as he walked back. Helen waited in the background holding Astyanax. "What's going on?" Andromache asked her husband. But he just turned to Arsinoë. "He wants to take you back with him," he told her. "He's alive, your Patroclus." For a moment, she didn't think she heard him right. But then Arsinoë's mouth fell open and she shrieked. "What jest is this, Hector? What?" He shook his head and took her hand. "No, it is no jest." Her lips began to quiver and she let out a laugh as tears fell down her cheeks. Andromache had to grab her before she fell to the ground. "He's alive?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing! "Thank the Gods," she wept. "Thank the Gods!" Andromache looked over her head at Hector. They were happy for her, for they knew what it was like be so much in love. But they also knew that this would probably be the last time they would see her. She found her feet and turned to the couple.

"Is there time to bring anything with me?" She wondered aloud. She turned and ran back into the palace as quickly as she could. Storming into her rooms, Arsinoë went over to her chests and pulled out three gowns at random and rolled them up into a bundle of fine silks. She moved to her vanity and grabbed a necklace that had belonged to her mother. "Oh!" She remembered the tunic and swiped it from the bed. There, that was all she needed. The rest Andromache could have if she wanted. She shot out of her room and back down the palace steps and ran all the way back down to the main gates. It was now just the three of them; Helen and Paris had left long before. Looking at the prince and his wife, her mood sobered.

"Hector...Andromache?" Suddenly she felt uncertain. It was one thing to be be taken from them, but quite another to leave the couple willingly. Hector saw her uncertainty and stepped forward, hugging her tight.

"Little Arsinoë," he said, smiling down at her. "Be happy," he told her. "I love you."

She nodded. "And you be safe," she ordered. "Your son needs his father." Hector stepped away and Andromache took his place. She cupped Arsinoë's face and they smiled through their tears. "Dear Arsinoë," she whispered. "You will always be my sister." Arsinoë nodded, wiping away her tears. "And you," she reciprocrated. Sniffing, she looked out to where Achilles was waiting in his chariot. With one last embrace and a grin from Arsinoë, she turned and ran out to the chariot.

"He lives?" She asked Achilles. "For now. Get in." Doing as she was told, she stepped onto the chariot as he cracked the reins and the horses took off. Looking back, Hector and Andromache got smaller and smaller, and she prayed to the Gods for their safety. The chariot ride seemed to take forever and every second was agony until they finally came upon the first group of Greek ships. Her hands gripped onto the bronze rim of the chariot as they got closer and closer to his ship. She felt like telling him to hurry up but thought better of it. They hadn't spoke during the ride back to the camp, but as the chariot finally came to a halt, he told her to jump out and go to Patroclus' tent.

Eudorus and the other Myrmidons all stood outside and they nodded their greetings as she walked past them. She opened the tent flaps and went it, halting when she saw him on the bed. He was unconcious and his breathing wasn't regular, but he was breathing at least. The blanket was pulled up to his waist, and Arsinoë saw thick bandages wrapped around his neck. Biting her lip, she made her way over to him and knelt beside the bed. She took his left hand in both of hers and kissed it. His hair was soaked with sweat and his skin was almost completely devoid of colour; she would have thought that it was a corpse if it hadn't been for the rise and fall of his chest.

Oh, but he was alive! She almost couldn't believe it. She reached up and put her hand on his cheek. His skin was burning! 'He must have a fever,' she thought. 'It would explain why he's sweating so much.' She wiped her hand on her white gown. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gods and settled down in the sand, his hand still in hers.

"Arsinoë," a voice whispered from the doorway. She turned and saw Briseis standing there, and the older woman walked over to her. She knelt down and engulfed Arsinoë in a hug which was returned with only one arm. Arsinoë didn't take her hand away from Patroclus'. "What were you thinking, running after Achilles like that?" Briseis scolded. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? When the Myrmidons came back without you, I thought you had been killed!" "No," Arsinoë whispered. "Hector took me back to Troy. Actually, he ordered two soldiers to do it. They had to drag me. Tell me what happened to him," she asked.

Briseis looked over at the unconsious boy. "When they brought him back to camp, the doctors were able to stop the bleeding. They were almost too late, but they stopped it. He has a fever, the doctors say, but they aren't too concerned about that. He comes in and out of conciousness, and when he's awake, he tries to speak. But he can't."

"He can't speak?" Arsinoë questioned, looking over at him. It made sense. His vocal cords might have been cut by Hector's sword. "Will he ever speak again?" Briseis shrugged. "I don't know. He hasn't been able to yet." Briseis was about to say something else, but Arsinoë shushed her.

"He's waking up," she whispered. Briseis stood and Arsinoë sat up, leaning on the side of the bed. His eyes half opened and he moved his lips, trying to speak. "Patroclus?" She said. Tears came to her eyes, but they were tears of joy. He heard her voice and he blinked, and she smiled when his blue eyes saw her. They widened with surprise, and she gripped his hand tighter.

"Patroclus, it's Arsinoë. Can you hear me?" He closed his eyes and nodded, and she turned to Briseis with a relieved smile. Patroclus tried to speak. "No," she urged. "You shouldn't try and speak. Briseis told me that you cannot. You shouldn't try," she repeated. He nodded and she caressed his cheek. Arsinoë turned around at the sound of tent flaps being moved and saw that Briseis had slipped out to give the two some privacy.

"I thought you had died," she told him. "Hector took me from the field and dragged me me back to Troy. I didn't want to go." A tear ran down her face and fell onto the bed. She reached up with a trembling hand and brushed a second tear away. Patroclus opened his eyes, and Arsinoë realized that the reason he had them closed was because he was trying to hold back his own tears. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying, but that didn't stop a lump from forming in her throat. She couldn't even try to imagine how it was for him, feeling Hector's sword cut through his throat, laying on the sand wondering which breath would be his last. Squeezing his hand she reached out and stroked his face.

"It's alright, Patroclus," she reassured. At her words, tears began to fall from his eyes and soon his body was wracked with quiet sobs. When Patroclus had first woke up she hadn't wanted to disturb his neck, but now Arsinoë took him into her arms and cradled him against her chest. The big Greek, Achilles' cousin, had been completely vunerable laying on that sand, and he was as such once more in her arms, and she let him cry. She held him and ran her hands through his hair, and eventually his cries subsided. When he lifted his hed, his bandages were stained with blood.

"Oh no! I'll go and get the doctors to change it." Patroclus laid back down and she made the move to get up from the bed, but he grabbed ahold of her wrist and shook his head. "Patroclus, let me go. It could get infected." With the smallest of sighs, he released her hand and she ran to fetch a doctor. She waited while he changed the bandages, shooting Arsinoë a stern look, as if they had rutted the moment she came in and that was the cause. She stood to the side and when the man had left, she went again to Patroclus' side.

"Can I get you anything?" She asked. Patrclus opened his mouth slightly and pointed to it. "Something to drink?" she guessed. He nodded. "Water? There is it," she said, finding the jug across the room. She got up and got him a goblet of water. "Should you move again?" He shrugged and tried to sit up. Arsinoë rushed back over and put her arm around his shoulders to help brace him. She held the goblet up to his lips and he took a small sip. He made a face as if the water stung his throat and Arsinoë squeezed his shoulder. "More?" He shook his head and she put the goblet on the ground. "Does it hurt?" He shot her a look, his eyes still red from tears, and she smiled bashfully. "Oh yes, how silly of me." He patted the area on the bed next to him, and she raised her eyebrows. "No, Patroculs." He rolled his eyes.

Grinning, she shook her head. "There will be time for all that later," she told him. She ran a hand through his hair. "Right now, you need rest." She moved from sitting on the bed, back down to the sand. Holding his hand once more, Arsinoë forgot about Hector and Andromache back in Troy. All she could think of was Patroclus, and how blessed by the gods she was to have him back. She tilted her head up to look at him. His eyes were now closed and Arsinoë guessed that he had fallen back asleep. "Patroclus," she whispered. "I...I love you." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. She sat with him for hours and jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Eudorus, who had come to take her to Briseis. She had been dozing when the dark haired man came for her; he tapped her on the shoulder and led her outside by the arm.

"But I don't want to go, Eudorus." He smiled kindly at her. "Achilles has ordered it, Arsinoë." She nodded, not wanting to argue with the man who had brought her back to Patroclus. She went into the tent that Achilles shared with Briseis and saw that her cousin was alone.

"How was he?" Briseis asked. Arsinoë shrugged one shoulder. "He slept for the most part, but he did wake up once. He couldn't speak, but he was very conherant. Aware. He still had a fever, though."

Briseis was glad to hear it. According to Achilles, Hector's sword didn't get too deep into Patroclus' throat. It cut into his windpipe, but not enough to leave serious lasting damage. The doctors' said that he should make a recovery, it was just a matter of time. She watched Arsinoë sit down on the couch and she yawned. "Why don't you go to sleep, Arsinoë," Briseis suggested.

"But..."

Briseis smiled. "He'll be here when you wake up." Submitting to her cousin, Arsinoë laid down on the couch and quickly fell asleep. Briseis laughed as she draped a blanket over her cousin's body.

When the sun rose in the sky, Briseis was still sleeping, but Achilles was nowhere to be seen. There was a tray of grapes and figs on the table, and Arsinoë fell on it hungrily. She guzzled down a goblet of wine and left the tent as soon as she could for Patroclus'.

"Arsinoë," came a voice from down the beach. She turned and saw Odysseus walking towards her. She stopped and waited for him to catch up. He grinned down at her when they were side by side. "It's good to see you again," he told her. "You escaped from Troy, I see?" She shook her head. "No, Achilles came to rescue me."

"Ah," he nodded. "Always the hero, that Achilles," he laughed. Arsinoë smiled and he walked with her to the tent. He bid her goodbye as she walked inside, and she was greeted by the sight of Patroclus sitting up. "Good morning," she greeted. He grinned when he saw her, and she brought him over another goblet of water. She waited while the doctor came in and changed his bandages, and then she sat on the side of the bed. He looked much better than he did yesterday. His skin was still pale but not deathly so like it had been, and the doctor said that the fever had dropped slightly.

"Thank the Gods you're going to be alright, Patroclus." He nodded and took her hand. Pulling her to her side, he forced her to lay beside him. Not that she needed much persuading. He held her close and she could hear the steady sound of his beating heart. Sighing with a mix of happiness and relief, Arsinoë smiled and closed her eyes.

*****

Three years later, Arsinoë stood on the cliffs overlooking the sea. Turning around as she heard her name, she saw Patroclus and their daughter Klymene standing in one of the fields waiting for her. He held the child in his arms and Arsinoë ran towards them. Klymene giggled as her mother took her into her arms and kissed her husband. Patroclus' beard scratched her chin but she didn't mind.

"Are you ready to come inside?" He asked her. Arsinoë nodded at his raspy question. His voice had never been the same after his recovery, but that didn't seem to bother him. The scar did, however, and as soon as the reached Greece, he began to grow a beard to cover his throat. Arsinoë nodded and followed Patroclus into their home. The small family lived with Achilles and Briseis in Achilles' home in Phtia. When Arsinoë had arrived in Greece three years ago, she had instantly fallen in love with the black farmland and high cliffs and had only come to love it more as the years came and went. Taking her daughter's chubby hand in her own, Arsinoë walked through the villa and entered the dining hall. Sitting down next to Briseis, Arsinoë laughed as she watched her cousin struggle to maintain a hold on her own young son who was squirming around in her arms.

"Patience, priestess," Arsinoë smirked. Briseis shot her a look before returning her attentions back to the boy. Achilles and Patroclus stood on the other side of the room watching the goings on. Only when Briseis had gotten Mydon to sit still did the men come over to the table. "Some help you are," Briseis said. Achilles could only laugh as they took their seats. Patroclus took ahold of Arsinoë's hand under the table and she grinned as he began tracing patterns on her skin with his thumb. Looking at her family around the table, Arsinoë knew that there was no other place she would ever want to be.


End file.
